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“‘My dream! See, the panels are in the shape of a cross!’” 

[Page 198] 



/ 


THE 
MAN INSIDE 


1 


NATALIE SUMNER LINCOLN 

W 

AUTHOR OF “ THE TREVOR CASE ” AND 
“THE LOST DESPATCH.” 



D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
NEW YORK AND LONDON 
I9H 

j/-4 V 



Copyright, 1914, by 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 


Copyright, 1914, by Smith Publishing House 


Ziooffi 

Per- 


Printed in the United States of America 




TO THE LATE 

MAJOR-GENERAL GEORGE LEWIS GILLESPIE 

U. S. ARMY 


WHOSE KINDLY FRIENDSHIP, GENEROUS 
ENCOURAGEMENT AND DISCRIMINATING CRITICISM 
MADE THIS BOOK POSSIBLE 
IT IS MOST AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 
















1 






CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGB 

I. “ Where the Best Is Like the Worst” ... i 

II. After the Ball 14 

III. A Mysterious Tragedy 19 

IV. The Broken Appointment 24 

V. Mute Testimony 36 

VI. ClRCUMSTANIAL EVIDENCE 52 

VII. A Piece of Oriental Silk 59 

VIII. Kismet 71 

IX. At the State Department 87 

X. The Theft 96 

XI. Over the Tea Cups 107 

XII. A Council of War 118 

XIII. At the White House 1 31 

XIV. The Moth and the Flame 152 

XV. “Thornton’s Nest” 171 

XVI. A Cry in the Night 188 

XVII. The Mystery Deepens 204 

XVIII. In the Name of the Law 221 

XIX. The Accusation ... 231 

XX. Weaving the Web 245 

XXI. An International Intrigue 260 

XXII. The Pursuit 269 

XXIII. The End of the Quest 273 

XXIV. The Final Explanation 293 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING 

PAGE 

“ ‘My dream ! See, the panels are in the shape of a 
cross!’ ” ....... Frontispiece 

“But Cynthia remained where she was and peeped over 
the butler’s shoulder” 16 

“He made out a shadowy form just ahead of him and 
darted forward” 68 

“With an exclamation he rose, and walked across the 
room” 234 



THE MAN INSIDE 


CHAPTER I 

“where the best is like the worst” 

/ 

T HE long hot tropic day was drawing to its 
close. The shadows were gradually rising 
and filling the narrow street, and every 
now and then from the side of the open drain which 
ran through the middle of the street a large black 
carrion bird flew up. There was no sidewalk, the 
cobblestones running right up to the low white house 
walls. The windows which opened on the street 
were for the most part few in number, small and 
heavily barred. It was not by any means the best 
quarter in Colon. One building, more pretentious 
than the rest, was distinguished from its neighbors 
by large French windows, also protected by the iron 
screen or reja. 

It was impossible to tell the nationality of the one 

I 


THE MAN INSIDE 


man lounging along the street. He seemed pro- 
foundly buried in his own thoughts. Dark as his 
skin was, and black as was his beard, there was 
something about him which negatived the idea that 
he was a Spaniard. His rolling walk suggested the 
sailor’s life. 

As he passed the building with the long French 
windows, the tinkle of a guitar roused his attention, 
and he stepped inside the front door and glanced 
furtively at the few men who lounged about the 
tables which dotted the long room. Passing by sev- 
eral empty tables and chairs, the stranger seated 
himself in the corner of the room on the side fur- 
ther from the street, near a window which opened 
on a neglected garden. A tropical vine thrust its 
branches against what had once been a wood and 
glass partition which formed the end of the room, 
the branches and leaves twining in and out among 
the broken panes of the window. 

Some of the occupants of the room had glanced 
indifferently at the stranger on his entrance, but his 
haggard, unshaven face and worn clothing did not 
arouse their curiosity, and they again turned their 
attention to their wine. 

The stranger, after contemplating the view from 
the window for some moments, leaned back in his 


2 


THE BEST LIKE THE WORST 


chair, thrust his hands in his pockets, and stretched 
his long legs under the table ; then indolently studied 
his surroundings. The room reeked with tobacco 
smoke and the odor of spirits. The scene reminded 
him of Port Said. Not quite as many nationalities 
were represented in Colon as haunt the entrance to 
the Suez Canal, but the low chatter of tongues 
which greeted his ears was polyglot. The men in 
the room were types of the born ne’er-do-well. Lazy, 
shiftless, they had drifted to Colon, thinking to pick 
up whatever spoils came their way during the con- 
struction of the Panama Canal. Drinking and gam- 
bling, gambling and drinking — the sum total of their 
lives. The stranger’s lips curved in a sardonic smile, 
and he crooned softly: 

Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is like 
the worst, 

Where there aren’t no Ten Commandments an’ a man can 
raise a thirst. 

His smile deepened as he caught the scowl of a 
Spaniard sitting near him. His glance traveled on, 
and, as he studied the flushed, sodden faces, a sud- 
den horror of himself and his surroundings shook 
him. He passed a nervous hand over his damp 
forehead. Why had his memory played him so 
3 


THE MAN INSIDE 


scurvy a trick? The past few years were not pleas- 
ant to contemplate, and the future even less so. He 
half started from his chair, then sank back and sum- 
moned the mozo. Quickly he gave his order in 
fluent Spanish, and waited impatiently for the man’s 
return. He had been fortunate at the gaming table 
the night before, and could purchase a moment’s 
respite from the torments of an elusive memory. 
Memory, in whose wondrous train follow the joys 
of childhood, parents and home! The stranger’s 
strong hand trembled as he stroked his beard. Why 
was he an outcast? For him alone there were 
no childhood and no home; his thinking life be- 
gan as a full-grown man. Was there to be no 
awakening? 

In a few moments the mozo returned, and placed 
a glass and bottle of liquor before him. The 
stranger hastily filled and drank. As the stimulant 
crept through his veins, a feeling of physical con- 
tentment replaced all other sensations, and, lighting 
a cigar, he was slowly sinking once more into reverie 
when from behind the partition he heard a voice : 

“No names, please.” 

The words, spoken clearly in English, startled him 
from his abstraction, and he glanced through the 
vine and, himself unseen, saw two men sitting at a 
4 


THE BEST LIKE THE WORST 


table. They had apparently entered the patio from 
another part of the house. 

“Quite right, I approve your caution.” The 
words were also in English, but with a strong for- 
eign accent, and the speaker, a man of middle age 
and fine physique, laid some papers on the table be- 
fore them. “Where is the Senator this evening?” 

“He accompanied several members of the Con- 
gressional party to inspect the plant of the Quarter- 
master and Subsistence Departments, and on his re- 
turn will dine with Major Reynolds and several 
other officers at the hotel.” 

“I see.” The foreigner drummed impatiently on 
the table. “You were late in keeping your appoint- 
ment.” 

“I had the devil’s own time in finding this dive,” 
returned the younger man, and, as he moved his 
chair half around, the inquisitive stranger, peeping 
through the leaves of the vine, obtained a view of 
the speaker’s boyish face. The weak mouth was 
partly hidden by a short black mustache; the 
features were well cut, and by some would have 
been called handsome. 

The older man gave vent to a half-smothered 
chuckle. “Goethals and Gorgas have reformed the 
Canal Zone, and the local government is trying to 
& 


THE MAN INSIDE 


do the same with Panama, but, por Dios , drinking 
and gambling continue unnoticed in Colon,” he said, 
dryly. “I find a room in this house most con- 
venient during my short visits here. No ‘gringo* ” 
he sneered, “dare show his face in this room.” 

The stranger settled down in his chair, which was 
wedged into the corner formed by the wall of the 
room and the wood and glass partition, until his 
head was screened from the two speakers by the 
thick foliage of the vine. The Spaniard and the 
Jamaican, who had occupied the table nearest him, 
had gone, and the few men who still lingered ovei 
their wine at the farther end of the room paid no 
attention to him. He could listen without being ob- 
served. 

“So you believe the people of Panama are already 
dissatisfied with their president?” inquired the 
younger man, whom the listener judged to be an 
American. 

“I do,” came the firm reply. “And but for the 
presence of los tiranos del norte here there would 
have been already a pronunciamiento ” 

“Then you think the time is ripe for carrying out 
your scheme?” 

His companion nodded without speaking, and 
tugged at his gray imperial. “If it is done at all it 
6 


THE BEST LIKE THE WORST 

must be soon,” he said, finally. “American rule is 
not too popular here, and now is the time to act. 
And I pray God I shall be spared to see the fruits 
of the labor de los cochinos sucios reaped by another 
nation,” he spoke with intense bitterness. 

“And that nation?” questioned the other. 

“Is better left unmentioned.” 

“You do not love my countrymen,” exclaimed the 
American, as he drew out his cigarette case and 
passed it to his companion, who waved it away im- 
patiently. 

"“Say rather — hate,” was the terse reply. “But I 
do not look on you as one of that nationality. Your 
mother was my dearly loved cousin, and Colombia 
boasts no prouder name than the one she bore before 
she married your father. By the love you bear her 
■ lemory I entreat you to assist me in this undertak- 
ing.” 

“I have promised,” said the American gruffly. “I 
hear that Colombia intends accepting the ten million 
dollars offered by the United States for certain 
islands near Panama.” 

“Never!” The Colombian spoke with emphasis. 
“Our hatred lies too deep for that; it cannot be 
placated by an offer of ‘conscience money,’ no matter 
how great the sum.” 


7 


THE MAN INSIDE 

“The more fools you,” muttered the American, 
sotto voce . 

“The revolt of Panama was followed by an in- 
surrection in Colombia,” continued the other, “and 
the Government was overthrown. The American 
newspapers gave us a few paragraphs at the time — 
they did not mention that nearly one hundred thou- 
sand people were killed; that the horrors of civil 
war were augmented by pillage and murder. I was 
at the front with the troops, and, in my absence from 
home, my wife and child were murdered by some 
insurrectos. I tell you,” he struck the table a re- 
sounding blow with his clenched fist, “there is no 
Colombian living who would not gladlv see the 
United States humiliated.” 

“It is easy to see that the people in Panama are 
jealous of the success of the Americans,” commented 
the young man. 

“Naturally; the United States has always ad- 
vanced at the price of Latin-America.” 

“How so?” 

“Study your history. When the Thirteen Original 
States branched out, first came the ‘Louisiana Pur- 
chase,’ land originally settled by the French; then 
Florida, first settled by the Spanish, was bought by 
the United States. Later still, Texas seceded from 
8 


THE BEST LIKE THE WORST 


Mexico, settled also by the Spanish; then came the 
Mexican War, and Latin-America lost the territory 
now known as New Mexico, Arizona, and Cali- 
fornia.” 

“Seems to me it would have been better if Colom- 
bia had accepted the original offer of the United 
States for the Panama Canal Zone.” 

“Why so? The United States only offered a beg- 
garly ten million. By waiting a year the French con- 
cession would have expired, and the Colombian 
Government would have received the sixty million 
which the United States eventually paid the French 
Company.” 

“Instead of which you got nothing,” remarked the 
American dryly, “and lost Panama into the bar- 
gain.” 

“Through underhand methods,” began the other 
hotly, then checked himself. “Enough of the past. 
Have you a message for me?” 

For reply the young man drew out an envelope 
from an inside pocket and handed it to his com- 
panion, who opened it and read the communication 
in silence. 

“Good,” he said finally, tearing the note into in- 
finitesimal pieces and carefully putting them in his 
leather wallet, from which he first took several let- 

9 


THE MAN INSIDE 


ters. “Give this to the Ambassador immediately on 
your return, and this — ” he hesitated for a second — 
“give at once to our mutual friend.” 

The American took the papers and placed them 
securely in an inside pocket. “Is that all?” he in- 
quired. 

“No.” The Colombian drew out a small chamois 
bag whose contents emitted a slight jingling noise 
as he handed it to his companion. “You may find 
this useful. No thanks are necessary, dear boy,” 
laying his hand on the American’s shoulder as the 
latter commenced speaking. “The death of my wife 
and child has deprived me of near relatives except 
you, and I propose to make you my heir.” Then, to 
change the subject, he added quickly, “Is there no 
way to induce the Senator to use his influence 
with Congress and the Administration for dis- 
armament, and the curtailing of building more battle- 
ships?” 

The American laughed disagreeably. “I think it 
may be done — in time.” 

The Colombian’s face brightened. “Splendid I 
If we can stop his fervid speeches in behalf of a 
larger standing army and navy, we will have accom- 
plished much. But how do you expect to alter his 
attitude?” 


io 


THE BEST LIKE THE WORST 


“Through a woman,” the American’s lips parted 
in an amused smile. “There’s no fool like an 
old fool, and the Senator is no exception to the 
rule.” 

“Indeed?” The Colombian raised his eyebrows. 
“And what has the woman to say in the matter?” 

“Nothing. She emulates a clam.” 

The eavesdropper on the other side of the parti- 
tion, who had caught most of the conversation, 
moved ever so slightly to stretch his cramped limbs, 
and then pulled out his handkerchief and mopped 
his heated face. As he did so a small slip of paper 
dropped, unseen by him, from his pocket to the floor. 
A large black cat came softly over to him and he 
lifted the animal up and placed her on the table be- 
fore him. He stroked the purring feline and 
listened intently to catch the conversation which 
drifted to him through the vine-covered broken win- 
dow panes. Apparently the two men were preparing 
to leave. 

“Does the Senator really think to marry?” asked 
the Colombian, as he picked up his hat. 

“I judge so. He is obviously very much infat- 
uated with the girl’s unusual type of beauty. And, 
believe me, she thoroughly understands the art of 
managing men.” 


II 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“Indeed? Who is the girl ?” 

“The young daughter of the famous Irish actress, 
Nora Fitzgerald. Senator Carew . . . 

Crash — the bottle and glass smashed in pieces. 
The eavesdropper never stopped to see the damage 
he had done, but with incredible swiftness and 
stealth was out of the room and down the street 
before the irate proprietor had reached the deserted 
table. 

“ Que hay?” inquired the Colombian of the pro- 
prietor. He and the American had rushed into the 
room and over to the window by which the eaves- 
dropper had been sitting. 

“A drunken Spaniard knocked the bottle and 
glass from the table, and cleared out without pay- 
ing the damage,” explained the proprietor in Span- 
ish, as he signed to the mozo to sweep up the 
mess. 

“What’s that in your hand?” 

“A card, Senor, which I have just picked up from 
the floor.” 

“Let me have it.” 

“Si, Senor, con mucho gusto” He quickly handed 
the paper to the Colombian. 

The American looked over his companion’s shoul- 
der as the latter adjusted his eyeglasses and held up 


12 


THE BEST LIKE THE WORST 


the visiting card so that both could see its contents. 
With staring eyes and faces gone white they read 
the engraved inscription : 

MR. JAMES CAREW 


MARYLAND. 


CHAPTER II 


AFTER THE BALL 

F IFTY-FOUR !” bellowed the footman through 
his megaphone for the sixth time, and he 
slanted his umbrella to protect his face from 
the driving rain which half-blinded him. A waiting 
automobile, whose chauffeur had mistaken the num- 
ber called, moved slowly off and gave place to a car- 
riage and pair. 

“Fifty-four,” mumbled the coachman, checking his 
restive horses with difficulty. 

The footman turned, touched his hat, and beck- 
oned to Cynthia Carew, who stood waiting in the 
vestibule. With a rueful glance at the wet sidewalk, 
she gathered her skirts up above her ankles and, 
propelled by the sturdy arm of her escort, Captain 
Lane, was landed breathless at the carriage door. 

“In with you,” laughed Lane, as his umbrella was 
almost dragged from his hand by the high wind. 
“Your wrap is too pretty to be ruined. . . .” Cyn- 
14 


AFTER THE BALL 


thia was half lifted, half pushed inside the lan- 
dau. . . . “Good-night, my dearest.” 

The door slammed shut; the horses, weary of long 
standing, started forward at the sound and raced 
around the corner into Massachusetts Avenue before 
the sleepy coachman could collect his wits. 

Cynthia, on the point of seating herself, was flung 
toward the farther corner of the carriage by the 
sudden jerk. Instinctively she threw out her hand to 
steady herself, and her open palm encountered what 
was unmistakably a broad shoulder. 

“Good gracious!” recoiling and collapsing side- 
ways on the seat. “Philip! How you frightened 
»> 

me. 

Then she settled herself more comfortably and, 
with an effort, chatted on. 

“The dance really was great fun, just our set you 
know, some of the Diplomatic Corps, and a number 
of the officers from the Barracks. I hated to leave 
so early,” regretfully, “but I promised Uncle James. 
Mrs. Owen asked particularly for you, and was 
greatly put out because you did not appear. Hon- 
estly, Philip, I am very tired of trying to explain 
your sudden aversion to society. Why do you shun 
your friends?” 

Not getting an immediate answer she repeated 
15 


THE MAN INSIDE 


her question more emphatically. Still no reply. The 
silence caught her attention. Turning her head she 
scanned the quiet figure by her side. 

The pelting rain, which beat drearily upon the 
carriage roof and windows, almost drowned the 
sound of rapid hoof-beats. The high wind had ap- 
parently extinguished the carriage lamps and the 
dim street lights failed to illuminate the interior of 
the rapidly moving carriage. In the semi-darkness 
Cynthia could not distinguish her companion’s face. 

“It is you, Philip?” she questioned sharply, and 
waited an appreciable moment; then a thought oc- 
curred to her. “Uncle James, are you trying to 
play a practical joke?” Her voice rose to a higher 
key. 

Her question was ignored. 

Cynthia caught her breath sharply. Suppose the 
man was a stranger? She shrank farther back into 
her corner. If so, how came he there? Intently 
she studied the vague outlines of his figure. 

The landau was an old-fashioned vehicle built 
after a commodious pattern by a past generation, 
and frequently used by Senator Carew on stormy 
nights, as the two broad seats would accommodate 
five or six persons by tight squeezing. 

Cynthia clutched her wrap with nervous fingers. 

1 6 


AFTER THE BALL 


If the man had inadvertently entered the wrong car- 
riage, the least he could do was to explain the situa- 
tion and apologize. But suppose he was drunk? 
The thought was not reassuring. 

“Tell me at once who you are,” she demanded 
imperiously, “or I will stop the carriage.” 

At that instant the driver swung his horses 
abruptly to the left to avoid an excavation in the 
street made by the sewer department, and, as the 
wheels skidded on the slippery asphalt, the man 
swayed sideways, and fell upon Cynthia. A slight 
scream escaped her, and she pushed him away, 
only to have the limp figure again slide back upon 
her. 

He was undoubtedly drunk ! Thoroughly alarmed 
she pushed him upright, and struggled vainly to 
open the carriage door with her disengaged hand. 

With a tremendous jolt, which again deposited 
the helpless figure on her shoulder, the carriage 
wheels struck the curb as the horses turned into the 
driveway leading to the porte-cochere of the Carew 
residence. As the horses came to a standstill the 
front door was thrown open, and the negro butler 
hastened down the short flight of steps. 

Cynthia, with one desperate effort, flung the man 
back into his corner and, as the butler turned the 
17 


THE MAN INSIDE 


stiff handle and opened the door, half jumped, half 
fell out of the landau. 

“A man’s in the carriage, Joshua,” she cried. 
“See who it is.” 

The servant looked at her in surprise, then obe- 
diently poked his head inside the open door. Unable 
to see clearly he drew back and fumbled in his pocket 
for a match-box. 

“Keep dem hosses still, Hamilton,” he directed, 
as the coachman leaned down from his seat, and 
then he pulled out a match. “Miss Cynthia, yo’ 
bettah go inter der house,” glancing at the young 
girl’s pale countenance, “I’ll ’ten to dis hyar pusson.” 

But Cynthia remained where she was and peeped 
over the butler’s shoulder. He struck a match and 
held it in the hollow of his hand until the tiny flame 
grew brighter, then leaned forward and gazed into 
the carriage. 

The intruder was huddled in the corner, his head 
thrown back, and the light fell on a livid face and 
was reflected back from glazing eyes. Cynthia’s 
knees gave way, and she sank speechless to the 
ground. 

“’Fore Gawd!” gasped Joshua, “it’s Marse 
James — an’ he’s daid!” 


18 



But Cynthia remained where she was and peeped over 
the butler’s shoulder” 















CHAPTER III 


A MYSTERIOUS TRAGEDY 

T HE portieres were pulled aside. 

“Excellency, breakfast is served,” and 
the servant bowed deferentially toward a 
figure standing in the bow window. As the an- 
nouncement reached his ears in the musical language 
of his native tongue, the Japanese Ambassador 
turned from the window and hastened into the din- 
ing-room. 

A small pile of letters lay beside his plate, and 
he opened and read them as he leisurely ate his 
breakfast. Tossing aside the last note, he picked up 
the morning Herald, and his eyes glanced casually 
over the page then stopped, arrested by a three- 
column heading: 

SENATOR CAREW DEAD 

A Mysterious Tragedy 

Murder or Suicide? 

19 


THE MAN INSIDE 


The Ambassador pushed aside his plate and read 
the smaller type with growing interest. 

“During the cloudburst of last night, when the 
heavens themselves seemed to threaten Washington, 
a most mysterious crime was committed in the fash- 
ionable Northwest. United States Senator James 
Carew, of Maryland, one of the most distinguished 
and influential men in political and official circles, 
was found dead in his carriage early this morning. 

“Much mystery surrounds the case. The tragedy 
was not discovered until the arrival of the carriage 
at the Carew residence. Miss Carew, whom her 
uncle was escorting home from a dance, was com- 
pletely prostrated from shock, and had to be carried 
to her room. 

“Owing to the lateness of the hour, with the paper 
already, in press, only a few meager details could be 
learned by the special representative of the Herald. 

“Senator Carew was found by his butler, Joshua 
Daingerfield, huddled in a corner of the back seat 
of the carriage. Dr. Penfield, the coroner, was 
hastily summoned, as well as detectives from head- 
quarters. While awaiting their arrival, the police- 
man on the beat had the horses unharnessed and 
taken to the stable, and left the carriage under the 
porte-cochere. 


20 


A MYSTERIOUS TRAGEDY 


“On the arrival of the coroner and the detectives 
the body was removed from the carriage to the Sen- 
ator’s room in the Carew mansion. Dr. Penfield 
discovered that death was apparently due to a stab 
from a small, upright, desk bill file which had been 
thrust into the body with such force that the heavy, 
leaded round base was pressed tightly against the 
clothes. The sharp point had penetrated to the 
heart, and death must have been instantaneous. The 
weapon in the wound prevented any outward hemor- 
rhage, and Senator Carew bled internally. 

“These startling details but add interest to what 
promises to prove a mystery unique in the annals of 
crime. 

“Senator Carew and his family have resided here 
for many years, and have been prominently identi- 
fied with official and residential society. The old 
Carew mansion on Massachusetts Avenue east of 
Fourteenth Street has been noted for its lavish hos- 
pitality. It was erected by Senator Carew’s father, 
General Van Ness Carew, shortly before the com- 
mencement of the Civil War, and the foundations 
and walls were of such unwonted thickness that Gen- 
eral Carew was pestered with inquiries as to whether 
he was not building a fortress ! 

“The inmates of the Senator’s household are his 


21 


THE MAN INSIDE 


widowed sister, Mrs. George Winthrop, her step- 
son, Philip Winthrop ; and her niece, Miss Cynthia 
Carew, daughter of the late Philip Carew, a younger 
brother of Senator Carew. 

“Mrs. Winthrop is well known in Washington, 
having kept house for her brother since the death 
of his wife in 1881. Miss Cynthia Carew made her 
debut last December at a memorable ball which her 
aunt and uncle gave for her. Since then Miss Carew 
has received much attention, and is regarded as one 
of the most popular of the winter’s debutantes. 

“Philip Winthrop has spent most of his life in 
Washington, and, since his graduation from Prince- 
ton, has been acting as private secretary for Senator 
Carew. He is a member of the Alibi, the Chevy 
Chase, and the Riding and Hunt Clubs, and is pop- 
ular with his associates. 

“A fearless leader, an upright American, Senator 
Carew has served his country well, first as repre- 
sentative, then as senator. Possessing the confidence 
and friendship of the President as he did, it was 
frequently prophesied that he would be the power 
behind the throne in deciding many of the impor- 
tant issues now confronting the country. His in- 
explicable death is therefore a severe blow to many 
besides his immediate family. 


22 


A MYSTERIOUS TRAGEDY 


“The known facts at present point to murder or 
suicide. The negro driver, Sam Hamilton, has been 
arrested pending a closer examination.” 

The Ambassador regarded the printed lines long 
and thoughtfully. Then his foot pressed the electric 
button concealed in the carpet under the table. The 
bell had hardly ceased to buzz before the well- 
trained servant was by his side. 

“Send for my motor,” came the brief order. 

“It is already at the door, Excellency.” 

The Ambassador tossed his napkin on the table, 
pushed back his chair, and rose. “My hat and 
coat,” he directed, walking into the hall. 

In a few minutes he stepped out into the vestibule 
and filled his lungs with the delicious breeze that 
fanned his cheeks. No trace of the heavy storm of 
the night before was in the air. The sky was blue, 
and the May sunshine lit up the budding trees and 
shrubs. The touch of spring and new-born life was 
everywhere. The Ambassador snapped off a spray 
of honeysuckle which grew along the fence protect- 
ing his parking from his neighbor’s, and tucked the 
spray in his buttonhole as he entered the waiting 
motor. “Drive to the club,” he directed briefly, as 
the car moved off. 


CHAPTER IV 


THE BROKEN APPOINTMENT 

E LEANOR THORNTON turned in bed and 
stretched herself luxuriously. It was good 
to be young and to be sleepy. For a few 
seconds she dozed off again; then gradually awoke, 
and, too comfortable to move, let her thoughts wan- 
der where they would. In her mind’s eye she re- 
viewed the events of the past months, and, despite 
herself, her lips parted in a happy smile. She had 
come to Washington in November to visit her friend, 
Cynthia Carew, and, delighted with the reception 
accorded her, had invited her cousin, Mrs. Gilbert 
Truxton, to chaperon her, and, on her acceptance, 
had rented a small furnished residence near Dupont 
Circle for the winter. 

Mrs. Winthrop and Cynthia Carew, whom she 
had known at boarding school, took her everywhere 
with them, and her cousin, Mrs. Truxton, belonging 
as she did to an old aristocratic family of the Dis- 
trict, procured her entree to the exclusive homes of 
24 


THE BROKEN APPOINTMENT 


the “cave-dwellers,” as the residential circle was 
sometimes called. 

Born also with the gifts of charm and tact, 
Eleanor’s wild rose beauty had made an instant im- 
pression, and she was invited everywhere. The but- 
ler’s tray was filled with visiting cards, which many 
newcomers, anxious for social honors, longed to 
have left at their doors. 

Eleanor was one of the older girls at Dobbs 
Ferry during Cynthia’s first year at that boarding 
school. They had taken an immense liking to each 
other, which later blossomed into an intimate friend- 
ship. After her graduation she and Cynthia had 
kept up their correspondence without a break, and, 
true to her promise, given years before, she had left 
Berlin and journeyed to Washington to be present 
at Cynthia’s debut. 

After the death of her mother, Eleanor had been 
adopted by an indulgent uncle, Mr. William Fitz- 
gerald, of New York, and on his death had inherited 
a comfortable fortune. 

In many ways the winter had brought numerous 
triumphs in its train, enough to spoil most natures. 
But Eleanor was too well poised to lose her head 
over adulation. She had sounded the depths of 
social pleasantries, and found them shallow. In 
25 


THE MAN «. INSIDE 


every country she had visited all men had been only 
too ready to be at her beck and call — except one. 
The dreamy eyes hardened at the thought, and the 
soft lips closed firmly. She had made the advances, 
and he had not responded. A situation so unique in 
her experience had made an indelible impression. 
Angry with herself for even recalling so unpleasant 
an episode, she touched the bell beside the bed; then, 
placing her pillow in a more comfortable position, 
she leaned back and contemplated her surroundings 
with speculative eyes. 

Her individuality had stamped itself upon the 
whole room. A picture or two, far above the aver- 
age, a few choice books, whose dainty binding indi- 
cated a taste and refinement quite unusual; one or 
two Chinese vases, old when the Revolutionary War 
began; an ivory carving of the Renaissance; a mir- 
ror in whose lustrous depths Venetian beauties had 
seen their own reflections hundreds of years ago. 
All these things gave sure indication of study and 
travel, and a maturity of thought and taste which, 
oddly enough, seemed rather to enhance Eleanor’s 
natural charm. 

A discreet knock sounded on her door. “Bon 
jour , Mademoiselle ” exclaimed the maid, entering 
with the breakfast tray. 

2 6 


THE BROKEN APPOINTMENT 


“Bon jour, Annette,” responded Eleanor, rousing 
herself, then lapsing into English, which her maid 
spoke with but a slight accent. “Put the tray here 
beside me. Must I eat that egg?” she made a slight 
grimace. 

“But yes, Mademoiselle.” The Frenchwoman 
stepped to the window and raised the shade. “Ma- 
dame Truxton gave orders to Fugi to tell the cook 
that he must send you a more substantial breakfast. 
She does not approve of rolls and coffee. I think 
she wishes you to eat as she does.” 

Eleanor shuddered slightly. “Did — did she have 
beefsteak and fried onions this morning?” she in- 
quired. 

“But yes, Mademoiselle,” Annette’s pretty fea- 
tures dimpled into a smile, “and she ate most hear- 
tily.” 

“Not another word, Annette, you take away my 
appetite. Is Mrs. Truxton waiting to see me?” 

“No, Mademoiselle; she was up at six o’clock 
and had her breakfast at half-past seven.” Annette 
paused in the act of laying out a supply of fresh 
lingerie. “What have the Americans on their 
conscience that they cannot sleep in the morn- 
ing?” 

“You cannot complain of my early rising,” 
27 


THE MAN INSIDE 


laughed Eleanor, glancing at the clock, whose hands 
pointed to a quarter to twelve. 

“Ah, Mademoiselle, you have lived so long 
away from America that you have acquired our 
habits.” 

“You may take the tray, Annette; I have even 
less appetite than usual to-day.” Eleanor waited 
until it had been removed, then sprang out of bed. 
“Come back in fifteen minutes,” she called. 

It did not take her long to complete her toilette , 
and when the maid returned she was seated before 
her dressing table. 

“What news to-day, Annette?” she asked, as the 
Frenchwoman, with skilful fingers, arranged her 
wavy hair, which fell far below her waist. 

“Madame and Fugi ” began the maid. 

“I don’t want household details,” broke in 
Eleanor impatiently. “Tell me of some outside 
news, if there is any.” 

“Oh, indeed, yes; news the most startling. Sen- 
ator Carew ” she paused to contemplate her 

handiwork. 

“Well, what about him?” inquired Eleanor list- 
lessly. 

“He is dead.” 

“Dead!” The handglass slipped from Eleanor’s 
28 


THE BROKEN APPOINTMENT 


grasp and fell crashing to the hearth. Annette 
pounced upon it. 

“Oh, Mademoiselle, the glass is broken. Quelle 
horreur!” 

“Bother the glass.” Eleanor’s foot came down 
with an unmistakable stamp. “Tell me at once of 
Senator Carew’s death. I cannot believe it!” 

“It is only too true,” Annette was a privileged 
character and deeply resented being hurried, also 
her volatile French nature enjoyed creating a sensa- 
tion. She had eagerly read the morning paper, and 
had refrained from telling Eleanor the news until 
she could get her undivided attention. “Senator 
Carew was found dead in his carriage early this 
morning on his return from the dance at Mrs. 
Owen’s” — Annette had no reason to complain, 
Eleanor was giving her full attention to the story — 
“he had been stabbed.” 

The maid’s hand accidentally touched Eleanor’s 
bare neck, and she felt the taut muscles quiver. 
Covertly she glanced into the mirror and studied 
the lovely face. But Eleanor’s expression told her 
nothing. Her cheeks were colorless and her eyes 
downcast. 

After a barely perceptible pause Annette con- 
tinued her story. “The coachman has been ar- 
29 


THE MAN INSIDE 


rested ” a knock interrupted her and she has- 

tened to open the door, returning in an instant with 
a note. 

“Fugi says the messenger boy is waiting for an 
answer, Mademoiselle.” 

Eleanor tore it open and read the hastily scrawled 
lines. 

Dear Eleanor: 

I suppose you have been told ot last night’s ter- 
rible tragedy. Cynthia is prostrated. She begs piti- 
fully to see you. Can you come to us for a few 
days? Your presence will help us both. 

Affectionately, 

Charlotte Winthrop. 

Eleanor read the note several times, then walked 
thoughtfully over to her desk. 

Dearest Mrs. Winthrop: [she wrote] It is 
awful. I will come as soon as possible. 

Devotedly, 

Eleanor. 

“Give this to Fugi, Annette, then come back and 
pack my small steamer trunk,” as the maid hastened 
out of the room; she picked up a silk waist pre- 
paratory to putting it on, but her toilette was 
doomed to another interruption. 

30 


THE BROKEN APPOINTMENT 


“Well, my dear, may I come in?” asked a pleas- 
ant voice from the doorway. 

“Indeed you may, Cousin Kate,” Eleanor stepped 
across the room and kissed the older woman affec- 
tionately. Mrs. Truxton’s ruddy face lighted with 
an affectionate smile as she returned her greeting. 
She did not altogether approve of her young cousin, 
many of her “foreign ways” as she termed it, of- 
fended her, but Eleanor’s lovable disposition had 
won a warm place in her regard. 

Mrs. Truxton seated herself in one of the com- 
fortable lounging chairs and contemplated the dis- 
heveled room and Eleanor’s oriental silk dressing 
gown with disapproval. 

“Do you know the time?” she inquired pointedly. 

“Nearly one,” answered Eleanor, as she dis- 
carded her dressing gown for a silk waist. “Lunch 
will soon be ready. I hope you have a good appe- 
tite.” 

“Yes, thank you; Eve been out all the morning,” 
reproachfully. “Mrs. Douglas has asked me to 
dine with her this evening, and, I think, Eleanor, if 
it will not interfere with your arrangements, that I 
will accept the invitation.” 

“Do so by all means,” exclaimed Eleanor heartily. 
“I hope she won’t talk you deaf, dumb, and blind.” 
3i 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“She is rather long-winded,” admitted Mrs. Trux- 
ton, tranquilly. “On the telephone this morning she 
took up twenty minutes telling me of the arrival 
here of her nephew, Douglas Hunter — good gra- 
cious, child ” as Eleanor’s silver powder box 

rolled on the floor with a loud bang — “how you 
startle one.” 

“I beg your pardon,” Eleanor was some seconds 
picking it up, for her fingers fumbled clumsily. 
“What were you saying, Cousin Kate?” replacing 
the silver on the dressing table. 

“Mercy, child, how inattentive you are! I was 
only remarking that Douglas Hunter is no stranger 
to Washington. He was raised here, as he belongs 
to one of the first families of Georgetown.” 

“I never heard of a ‘second’ family in George- 
town,” smiled Eleanor; then, seeing her cousin’s 
offended expression, she hastily changed the subject. 
“Have you heard the shocking news of Senator 
Carew’s — ” she hesitated for a moment — “tragic 
death?” 

“Indeed I have. Washington is talking of noth- 
ing else. Why are you packing, Annette?” as the 
servant entered. 

“Mrs. Winthrop has just written and asked me 
to spend a few days with them,” explained Eleanor 
32 


THE BROKEN APPOINTMENT 


hurriedly, “so suppose you invite Miss Crane to 
stay with you in my absence.” 

“Of course you cannot very well decline to go,” 
said Mrs. Truxton thoughtfully. “Still, I hate to 
have you mixed up in such an affair, Eleanor.” 

“Nonsense, Cousin Kate, you must not look at it 
in that light,” Eleanor patted the fat shoulder near- 
est her affectionately. “Cynthia told me yesterday 
that Senator Carew had said he was going to dis- 
charge the coachman, Hamilton (a surly brute, I 
always thought him), for drunkenness. I have no 
doubt he committed the murder from revenge, and 
while under the influence of liquor.” 

“I sincerely trust that is the correct solution of the 
mystery,” Mrs. Truxton looked dubious, “but there 
has been one fearful scandal in that family already, 
Eleanor, and I very much doubt if Senator Carew 
was killed by a servant.” 

“Why, what do you mean?” Eleanor wheeled 
around in her chair and faced her abruptly. 

“Time will show.” Mrs. Truxton shook her head 
mysteriously. 

“Oh, nonsense!” exclaimed Eleanor impatiently. 

As Mrs. Truxton opened her lips to reply, An- 
nette reentered the room. 

“Pardon, madame, you are wanted at the tele- 

33 


THE MAN INSIDE 


phone,” and as Mrs. Truxton lifted herself carefully 
out of her chair and walked out of the room, she 
handed a package to Eleanor. “This has just come 
for you, Mademoiselle; the boy who left it said 
there was no answer.” 

“Annette! Annette!” came Mrs. Truxton’s shrill 
voice from the lower hall. 

“Coming, Madame, coming,” and the maid has- 
tened out of the room shutting the door behind her. 

Left alone, Eleanor turned the sealed package 
over curiously. The address was written in an un- 
known hand. Quickly breaking the red sealing wax 
and tearing off the paper, she removed the paste- 
board cover and a layer of cotton. A startled ex- 
clamation escaped her as she drew out the contents 
of the box — a necklace of large rubies and smaller 
diamonds in an antique setting. 

Eleanor, who knew the value of jewels, realized 
from their color and size that the rubies were almost 
priceless, and in the pure joy of beholding their 
beauty laid the necklace in the palm of her left hand 
and along her bare arm. After contemplating the 
effect for a moment, a thought occurred to her, and 
she pulled out the remaining cotton in the box and 
found at the bottom a small card. She picked it 
out and read the message written on the card. 

34 


THE BROKEN APPOINTMENT 


“The appointment was not kept . Well done.” 

The card fluttered to the floor unheeded. The 
pigeon blood rubies made a crimson stain on 
Eleanor’s white arm, strong wrist, and supple fingers. 


CHAPTER V 


MUTE TESTIMONY 

D OUGLAS HUNTER sighed involuntarily 
as he left busy Fourteenth Street, and 
walked down Massachusetts Avenue. 
Twelve years’ absence makes a great difference in 
the ever-shifting population of Washington. He 
felt like another Rip Van Winkle as he gazed at 
each passer-by in his search for a familiar face. 
Even the streets had changed, and he was almost 
appalled by the grandeur of some of the huge white 
palaces erected by multimillionaires on Massachu- 
setts and New Hampshire Avenues, and the Avenue 
of the Presidents. He had spent part of the morn- 
ing motoring about the city with one of his cousins, 
and the outward and visible signs of wealth had 
staggered him. What had become of the unpre- 
tentious, generous-hearted hospitality, and the old 
world manners and courtly greeting of the former 
host and hostess who had ruled so long at the Na- 
tional Capital? Had Mammon spoiled the old sim- 
36 


MUTE TESTIMONY 


plicity, and had Washington become but a suburb 
of New York and Chicago? It truly seemed as if 
plutocracy had displaced aristocracy. 

As Douglas approached the Carew residence he 
glanced keenly at the handsome old mansion and at 
the numerous idlers loafing in the vicinity drawn 
there by idle curiosity. A policeman stood on guard 
in the driveway, and a number of photographers 
loitered near by, cameras in hand, waiting patiently 
to snapshot any member of the Carew family who 
might incautiously venture out of doors. 

The house itself, a handsome square red brick 
and stone trimmed four-storied building, stood some 
distance back from the sidewalk with beautifully 
kept lawns divided by the carriage drive. The 
blinds were drawn and the ominous black streamer 
over the bell presented a mournful spectacle. It was 
the finest residence in that once fashionable locality, 
and Douglas decided that he preferred its solid, 
home-like architecture to the more ornate and pre- 
tentious dwellings in other parts of the city. As 
the years went by Senator Carew had added im- 
provements until the residence was one of the most 
delightful in Washington. 

As Douglas turned into the walk, a large touring 
car wheeled into the driveway, and as it purred 
37 


THE MAN INSIDE 


softly by him, he stepped back respectfully and 
raised his hat to the tired-faced man sitting alone in 
the tonneau . He did not need to glance at the small 
coat-of-arms of the United States emblazoned on 
the polished door, or at the two Secret Service men 
following on their motor cycles, to recognize the dis- 
tinguished occupant of the car. 

As the motor stopped under the porte-cochere , the 
colored butler ran down the steps, and the President 
leaned forward and placed a note in the bowing and 
scraping negro’s hand; then the big car continued 
on down the driveway and out into the street. 

Douglas waited where he was for a few minutes 
before mounting the short flight of steps. The hall 
door was opened several inches on his approach, 
and Joshua solemnly extended his card tray, which 
Douglas waved aside. 

“I called to see Mr. Brett; is he here?” he asked. 

“Yessir,” Joshua opened the door still further, 
and inspected him carefully. 

“Take my card to him and ask if he can spare me 
a few minutes,” and he dropped his visiting card on 
the tray. 

“Walk in, suh,” exclaimed Joshua, impressed by 
Douglas’ well-groomed appearance; then he hesi- 
tated, embarrassed by a sudden idea. 

38 


MUTE TESTIMONY 


‘Til wait here,” volunteered Douglas, stepping 
inside the square hall. 

“All right, suh,” Joshua closed the front door, 
“just a moment, suh,” and he stepped softly across 
the hall and into a room. Douglas glanced about 
him curiously and caught a glimpse of spacious 
rooms and lofty ceilings. It was a double house, 
and to the right of the entrance was the drawing- 
room, and back of that another large room, which 
Douglas took to be the dining room, judging from 
the glittering silver pieces on a high sideboard of 
which he had a glimpse through the door leading 
into the square hall. Across from the drawing-room 
was the room into which Joshua had disappeared, 
and back of that a broad circular staircase which 
ran up to the top floor. 

Douglas was idly gazing out of the glass panel of 
the front door when Joshua returned, followed by 
a middle-aged man with a keen, clever face. 

“Is it really you, Mr. Hunter?” he asked, as 
they shook hands warmly. “I could hardly be- 
lieve my eyes when I saw your card. Come this 
way,” and he conducted Douglas into the room he 
had just left, and closed the door softly behind 
them. 

“When did you arrive in Washington?” he in- 

39 


THE MAN INSIDE 


quired, motioning Douglas to take a chair near the 
window and dropping into one opposite him. 

“Yesterday.” Douglas leaned back and studied 
his surroundings. His eyes traveled over the hand- 
some carved rosewood bookcases which lined the 
walls, at the large desk table, and the comfortable 
leather-covered revolving desk chair. The desk 
silver, drop lights, and large upholstered davenport 
pushed invitingly before the huge fireplace with its 
shining brass fire-dogs and fender, each told a tale 
of wealth and artistic taste — two assets not often 
found together. His eyes returned to Brett, and he 
smiled involuntarily as he caught the other intently 
regarding him. 

Brett smiled in return. “I was wondering why 
you looked me up so soon,” he admitted candidly. 
“Don’t think I’m not glad to see you” — hastily — 
“but I remember of old that you seldom do things 
without a motive.” 

“On the contrary, I am here this afternoon to 
find a motive — for Senator Carew’s tragic death.” 
The smile vanished from Douglas’ clear-cut features. 
“One moment,” as Brett opened his mouth to speak. 
“After reading the account of the Senator’s death 
in the morning papers, I went down to headquarters 
to get what additional facts I could, and they told 
40 


MUTE TESTIMONY 


me that you had been put on the case. So I decided 
to look you up in person, and here I am.” 

“May I ask why you take such an interest in this 
case?” 

“Certainly, Brett; I was coming to that. Sen- 
ator Carew used his influence to get me in the Diplo- 
matic Service, and during the past twelve years he 
has shown me many kindnesses, such as seeing that 
I was detailed to desirable posts, and helped me to 
secure promotion.” 

“He wouldn’t have done that, Mr. Hunter, if you 
hadn’t made good,” broke in Brett quickly. 

“I saw him last at Delmonico’s in New York on 
my way to Japan a little over a year ago,” continued 
Douglas. “He asked me to lunch with him, and 
evinced great interest in the mystery of the Jewel 
Custom Fraud which he, in some way, knew I had 
had a hand in exposing.” 

“Sure he did. I told the department about your 
assistance when I was in Paris. If it hadn’t been for 
you, I’d never have landed those swindlers. They 
led me a pretty dance over the Atlantic.” 

“We worked together then,” said Douglas 
thoughtfully, “and, on the strength of our past suc- 
cess, I’m going to ask you to take me on as a sort 
of advisory partner in this Carew case.” 

4i 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“Suppose you first tell me the reason for making 
such a request.” 

“In the first place I owe a debt of gratitude to 
Senator Carew. For the sake of his friendship with 
my father years ago, he has taken a great interest 
in me. Secondly, I am in Washington at his re- 
quest.” 

Brett looked his interest, and Douglas went on 
rapidly: “Some time ago I received a note from him 
asking me to apply for leave of absence from Tokio 
and to come direct to Washington, saying that he 
wished to see me on important business.” 

“Did he state the nature of that business?” in- 
quired Brett eagerly. 

“No. I at once followed his suggestion and ap- 
plied to the State Department for leave. It was 
granted, and I hastened home as fast as steamer 
and train could bring me.” 

“Did you see Senator Carew?” 

“Unfortunately, no. I only reached Washington 
late last night. I expected to see the Senator this 
morning, instead of which I read of his mysterious 
death in the morning papers.” 

Brett mused for a few minutes, then roused him- 
self. “I am only too glad to have your assistance, 
Mr. Hunter.” 


42 


MUTE TESTIMONY 


‘‘Good !” ejaculated Douglas, well pleased. “Sup- 
pose you tell me all the facts in the case so far 
discovered.” 

Brett leaned back in his chair and crossed his 
legs. “On the face of things it looks as if the negro 
driver, Hamilton, was guilty.” 

“Tell me what leads you to think that?” inquired 
Douglas quickly. 

“He is the worst type of negro, a vicious brute 
with a taste for liquor. I have inquired about him 
and examined him thoroughly and am really puz- 
zled, Hunter, to find out why Senator Carew ever 
employed him.” 

“Is he an old family servant?” 

“No. He has only been in Carew’s employ about 
a year I am told. He knows how to handle horses, 
and took excellent care of the Senator’s valuable 
stable.” 

“That probably explains why he was kept on,” 
said Douglas. “I’ve been told that Carew was 
hipped about his horses.” 

“Yes. I gathered from Mrs. Winthrop that 
Hamilton has been drinking steadily, and his conduct 
to the other servants grew intolerable. Senator 
Carew had to discharge him.” 

“When did that happen?” 

43 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“Yesterday afternoon.” 

“Then, how was it that he was driving the car- 
riage last night?” 

“Oh, Carew gave him a week’s notice, said he 
couldn’t fill his place at once, and told him to stay 
on. Joshua tells me that Hamilton uttered some 
ugly threats in the kitchen that evening, but that the 
servants paid no attention to his black humor, as they 
saw he had been drinking.” 

“I see in the papers that Hamilton vehemently 
declares his innocence.” 

“He does,” agreed Brett, checking his remarks 
off on his fingers; “he declares he did not see Sen- 
ator Carew after being discharged by him; that no 
one was in the carriage when he drove away from 
the stable at midnight; that he went directly to Mrs. 
Owen’s residence ; and that he does not know when 
or how Senator Carew’s body was secreted in the 
carriage.” 

“The plot thickens,” muttered Douglas. “Do 
you believe his statements?” 

“I do, and I don’t. The servants all declare that 
he was half drunk; therefore, I doubt if he was in 
a condition to pay much attention to anything, or 
that his statements can be relied on. He was 
sobered by the shock of finding Carew’s body in his 
44 


MUTE TESTIMONY 


carriage, and, when I arrested him, collapsed from 
fright.” 

“Well, judging from the facts you have just told 
me, I don’t much believe he killed Carew.” 

“Why not?” argued Brett. “Hamilton was ap- 
parently half out of his mind from rage and drink, 
and his brute nature made him seek revenge. It’s 
quite possible Carew entered the carriage thinking 
it would not be safe for his niece to drive home 
alone from the dance, and Hamilton took that op- 
portunity to kill him.” 

“I read in the evening paper that Hamilton was 
told to stop at the house for one of the maids, but, 
instead, drove directly from the stable to the dance,” 
said Douglas. “Therefore Carew did not enter the 
carriage at this door.” 

“Hamilton may have been too befogged with 
drink to have remembered the order,” suggested the 
detective. 

“I grant you, Brett,” said Douglas thoughtfully, 
“that the negro may have the nature, the desire, 
and the opportunity to commit murder — but why 
select such a weapon?” 

“Probably picked up the first thing at hand,” 
grunted Brett. 

“But a desk file is not the ‘first thing at hand’ in 

45 


THE MAN INSIDE 


a stable,” remarked Douglas calmly. “In fact, it’s 
the last thing you would expect to find there.” 

“I don’t know about that; perhaps it was thrown 
away in a wastepaper basket, and Hamilton may 
have picked it out of the ash pile,” suggested Brett. 

“What did the file look like?” 

“It is of medium size, the slender steel being very 
sharp, the round solid base being silver. I’ve shown 
it to several jewelers, and they all say it’s like hun- 
dreds of others, rather expensive, but popular with 
their well-to-do customers, and that they have no 
means of tracing it back to any particular owner. 
It was something like that one,” pointing to an up- 
right file on Senator Carew’s desk. 

Douglas leaned over and took it up. “An ideal 
weapon,” he said softly, balancing it in his hand as 
his fingers closed over the round heavy base. He 
removed the cork which was used to guard the sharp 
point and felt it with his thumb. “It must have 
taken a shrewd blow to drive the file through over- 
coat and clothing so that it would cause instant 
death.” 

“The Senator wore no overcoat.” Douglas looked 
his surprise. After a moment’s silence Brett edged 
his chair closer to his companion and lowered his 
voice. “You recollect how it rained last night?” 

4 6 


MUTE TESTIMONY 


“In torrents. I have seldom seen such a cloud- 
burst,” admitted Douglas. 

“It commenced to rain about ten-thirty,” con- 
tinued Brett, “and it did not stop until after three 
o’clock. Hamilton drove twice in that drenching 
rain to Mrs. Owen’s and back again, first taking 
Miss Carew to the dance and returning with her. 
Senator Carew’s body was discovered on the last 
trip home. Miss Carew told her aunt that no one 
was in the carriage with her when she made the first 
trip to the dance. Senator Carew’s body was not 
removed until after my arrival here this morning, 
and I then made a thorough examination of the car- 
riage and, with the coroner’s assistance, of the body 
as well” — he paused and cleared his throat — “I 
found Senator Carew’s clothes were absolutely dry 
? — as I said before, he wore no overcoat — now, how 
did Carew get into that carriage in that soaking 
downpour without getting wet?” asked Brett, set- 
tling back in his chair. 

“Perhaps he was first murdered and then carried 
out and put into the carriage.” 

“Perhaps so, but I doubt it.” 

“He may have entered the carriage at the stable 
when Hamilton was not around.” 

“I thought of that,” returned Brett, “and as soon 

47 


THE MAN INSIDE 


as it was daylight examined the yard and the alley. 
The concrete walk from the house to the stable is 
being laid now and cannot be used, so that one has 
to tread on the ground, which is extremely soft and 
muddy. The alley is a long one, and Carew’s stable 
is about in the center of it, and the rain, settling in 
the holes of the uneven cobbles, made walking very 
unpleasant. I am telling you all these details be- 
cause of another discovery I made,” went on Brett 
slowly; “the Senator’s shoes had been recently pol- 
ished and the blacking was not even stained.” 

Douglas leaned back and bit his thumb nail, a 
childish habit of which he had never been able to 
break himself. 

“Where did Carew spend the evening?” he asked 
finally. 

“That is what I have not been able to find out,” 
growled Brett. “Mrs. Winthrop told me she had 
not seen her brother since breakfast. That he went 
to the Capitol as usual in the morning. She was told 
on entering the house just before dinner that he 
would not return for that meal, but they did not 
state where he was going.” 

“Upon my word it’s a very pretty problem,” com- 
mented Douglas softly. 

“It is,” agreed Brett, rising and slowly pacing the 
48 


MUTE TESTIMONY 


room. He glanced piercingly at Douglas, who was 
thoughtfully contemplating a life-size portrait of 
one of Carew’s ancestors which hung above the 
mantel over the fireplace. Douglas Hunter’s clear- 
cut features, broad forehead, and square jaw indi- 
cated cleverness and determination. When Douglas 
smiled the severe lines relaxed and his smooth- 
shaven face was almost boyish. He had a keen 
sense of the ridiculous, which prevented him from 
taking himself too seriously. In the past Brett had 
conceived a high regard for the other’s quick wit 
and indomitable courage. 

“This is Senator Carew’s study or library,” 
he said, stopping before the desk, “and I was 
giving the room my special attention when you 
came in.” 

“Have you met with any success?” inquired 
Douglas quickly. 

“So far only one thing — it may be a clew or it 
may not; under this writing pad I found this blot- 
ter,” holding up a square white sheet; “it has been 
used only once, first on one side then on the other, 
so that by holding it in front of this mirror you can 
read quite clearly, see ” 

Douglas rose, stepped behind Brett, and peeped 
over his shoulder into the silver-mounted mirror, 
49 


THE MAN INSIDE 


which the latter had removed from its place on the 
mantel. 

The large, bold writing was fairly legible. “What 
do you make out of it?” asked Brett impatiendy. 

Obediently Douglas read the words aloud: 

“ ‘Am writing in case I don’t see you before 
you’ — ” the writing ceased. 

“He must have been interrupted,” explained 
Brett, “and clapped down the blotter on top of the 
sheet so that whoever entered couldn’t see the writ- 
ten words. Now look at the other side,” and he 
turned over the blotter on which were traced only a 
few words : 

“ ‘I have discovered ’ ” read Douglas. 

“What do you think of it?” asked Brett, putting 
the blotter in an inner pocket of his coat. 

“It depends on when it was written” — Douglas’ 
eyes strayed to the door. Surely Brett had closed it 
when they entered, now it stood partly open into the 
hall. He pointed silently to it, and by common im- 
pulse both men stepped out into the hall. 

Listening intently they heard a faint rap on one 
of the doors in the upper hall; then a high-pitched, 
quivering voice reached them : 

“Eleanor, Eleanor, I’m so glad you’ve come. I’m 
nearly sick with misery. They quarreled, Eleanor, 
50 


MUTE TESTIMONY 


they quarreled ” her voice caught in a sob — the 

door slammed shut. 

The two men glanced at each other, their eyes 
asked the same question. Who quarreled? 


CHAPTER VI 


CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE 

A SLIGHT sound behind him caused Douglas 
to wheel swiftly around. A pretty woman, 
with astonishment written largely in her 
round eyes, stood regarding the two men. She was 
carrying a handbag. 

“Whom do you wish to see?” asked Brett 
sharply. 

“No one, Monsieur,” replied Annette, her accent 
denoting her nationality. “I am Miss Thornton’s 
maid.” 

Douglas started. “Eleanor — Miss Thornton!” 
Was it possible that she could mean the Eleanor 
Thornton he used to know? 

“I am taking her bag to her room as she is spend- 
ing the night here,” added the servant. 

“Indeed.” Brett inspected her keenly. “When 
did Miss Thornton enter the house?” 

“A few minutes ago, Monsieur,” vaguely. 
“Joshua showed Mademoiselle in while I stopped a 
52 


CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE 


moment to speak with the chauffeur, and he left the 
front door open so that I could enter.” 

At that moment the butler appeared from the 
dining-room carrying a tray on which were glasses 
and a pitcher of ice water. 

“Joshua, is this Miss Thornton’s maid?” asked 
Brett. 

“Yessir,” Joshua ducked his head respectfully as 
he answered the detective. “Annette, Miss Eleanor 
done hab her same room next do’ ter Miss Cyn- 
thia’s. Yo’ kin take her things right upstairs, and 
tell Miss Eleanor I done got der ice water fo’ her.” 

With a half curtsey Annette stepped past the two 
men, and ran quickly up the staircase. 

“Stop a moment, Joshua,” ordered Brett, as the 
butler started to follow the maid. “Who opened 
the door into the library a few moments ago?” 

“♦’Deed I dunno, suh; I been so busy takin’ in 
cyards I ain’t noticed particular.” 

“Who has been in the hall besides yourself?” per- 
sisted Brett. 

“Ain’t no one,” began Joshua, then paused. 
“Now I do recollect dat Marse Philip cum in right 
smart time ergo, suh. He axed fo’ yo’, and I tole 
him yo’ was in de lib’ry. I ’specks he mighter been 
alookin’ fo’ yo’.” 


53 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“Ah, indeed; where is Mr. Winthrop now?” 

“Ah dunno, suh.” 

“Well, find him, Joshua, and tell him I wish to 
see him — at once.” Brett’s pleasant voice had 
deepened, and Joshua blinked nervously. 

“Yessir, I’ll tell him, suh, ’deed ah will,” he mum- 
1 >*ed, as he started upstairs. 

As Douglas and Brett walked across the hall to 
enter the library a man stepped out of the drawing- 
room. 

“Are you looking for me, Mr. Brett?” 

The question was asked courteously enough, and 
Douglas was the more astonished to encoun- 
ter a hostile stare as the newcomer glanced at 
him. 

“I hope you can give me a few minutes of your 
time,” said Brett; “will you be so good as to step 
into the library?” and he stood aside to allow Philip 
Winthrop to enter first. Douglas followed them 
into the room and locked the door. As the key 
clicked slightly Winthrop frowned, and his pale face 
flushed. 

“That is only a precaution against eavesdrop- 
pers,” explained Douglas quickly. 

“Mr. Winthrop, this is Mr. Douglas Hunter, 
who is assisting me in my efforts to unravel the mys- 
54 


CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE 


tery surrounding Senator Carew’s death, and with 
your permission will be present at this interview.” 

“Why, certainly,” exclaimed Winthrop, with well 
simulated heartiness; “won’t you both sit down?” 
and he dropped into the revolving desk chair. 
Douglas picked out his old seat in the window and 
turned his back to the light the better to face 
Winthrop and Brett, who also sat near the desk. 

“When will they hold the inquest, Mr. Brett?” 
questioned Winthrop. 

“The coroner, Dr. Penfield, told me to-morrow.” 

“Has Hamilton a lawyer to look out for his in- 
terests?” 

“That’s not absolutely necessary at the inquest, 
Mr. Winthrop. At present the negro is simply held 
on suspicion. If the inquest so decides, he will be 
charged with the murder and held for the grand 
jury.” 

Douglas had been busy scanning Winthrop’s face 
intently. He noted the heavy lines in the handsome 
face, and the unnatural brilliancy of his eyes. It 
was apparent to both men, by Winthrop’s thick 
speech and unsteady hands, which kept fingering the 
desk ornaments nervously, that he had been drink- 
ing heavily. 

“Where did you last see Senator Carew?” 

55 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“In this room yesterday afternoon.” 

“Did you see him alone, or were others present?” 

“He was alone.” 

“Did he show you a letter which he was then 
writing?” inquired Douglas at a venture, and was 
startled at the effect of his question on Winthrop. 
The latter whitened perceptibly, and pulled his 
short black mustache to hide his twitching lips. 

“I know nothing about any letter,” he stammered. 

Brett did not press the point, but asked instead: 
“Where did you spend last night?” 

“I dined here with my mother and cousin.” 

“And afterwards?” put in Douglas. 

“I went to the Alibi Club soon after dinner.” 

“How late did you stay there?” 

“Most of the night,” was the evasive reply. 

“Please mention the exact hour you left the club,” 
persisted Brett. 

“I really cannot recollect the exact time; I did 
not reach this house until after two this morning. 
We had a pretty gay time at the club, and I was 
in no condition to remember the hour,” and he 
smiled deprecatingly. 

Again Brett did not press the question. He 
turned over the pages of his small memorandum 
book in which he had been making entries. 

56 


CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE 


“Have you any idea where Senator Carew dined 
and spent the evening?” 

‘‘No,” came the emphatic answer. “He asked me 
to tell my mother not to expect him at dinner, that 
was all.” 

“Ah, indeed. Have you any idea when the Sen- 
ator left the house?” 

“No, I left him here, and went up to my room, 
where I stayed until dinner was announced.” 

“Where is your room?” 

“Third floor, back.” 

“Who has rooms on the next floor?” 

“Senator Carew’s bedroom, bath, and sitting- 
room are over this part of the house; Miss Cynthia 
Carew occupies the suite of rooms across the hall 
from his rooms. My mother and I have the third 
floor to ourselves.” Winthrop plucked nervously at 
the desk pad. “Talking is dry work; won’t you and 
Mr. Hunter join me, I’ll ring for Joshua.” 

“One moment,” Brett’s tone was peremptory and, 
with an unmistakable scowl, Winthrop sank down 
in his chair and leaned heavily on the desk. “What 
members of the family were in the house yesterday 
afternoon?” 

Winthrop thought for a moment before replying. 
“No one but my uncle and myself,” he said reluc- 
57 


THE MAN INSIDE 


tantly. “My mother and Miss Carew went out 
early to some bridge party, and did not return until 
just before dinner.” 

“I see.” Brett leaned back in his chair and con- 
templated Winthrop thoughtfully. 

“Mr. Winthrop,” asked Douglas, breaking the 
short silence, “were you and your uncle always on 
good terms?” 

“Why, yes.” Winthrop’s twitching fingers closed 
unconsciously on the slender desk file, and as he 
spoke his shifting eyes dropped from Douglas’ clear 
gaze, and fell on the sharp steel desk ornament in 
his hand. With a convulsive shudder he dropped 
it and sprang to his feet. “What’s all this ques- 
tioning about?” he demanded loudly. “I’ve had 

enough of this, you ” his hands clinched, and 

the blood flamed his pale face, a gurgle choked his 
utterance, and before Brett could reach him he fell 
prone across the desk. 


CHAPTER VII 


A PIECE OF ORIENTAL SILK 

I ’M glad you could come back, Mr. Hunter,” 
said Brett, as Joshua opened the library 
door of the Carew residence and admitted 
Douglas. “Can you stay here all night?” 

“If necessary,” replied Douglas, glancing at him 
in surprise. 

“I think it would be best. Mrs. Winthrop is com- 
pletely unstrung; her niece, Miss Carew, prostrated 
from shock, and Mr. Philip Winthrop in bed with a 
bad attack of delirium tremens. In such a house- 
hold your presence to-night might be invaluable if 
anything else were to happen — not that I am antici- 
pating any further trouble or tragedies.” 

“Very well, I will stay,” agreed Douglas. 

“ ’Deed I’se mighty glad ter hyar dat,” volun- 
teered Joshua, who hovered just inside the door on 
the pretext of arranging some furniture. “But I 
dunno whar I’ll put yo’, suh. Miss Eleanor, she’s 
59 


THE MAN INSIDE 


in de gues’ chambah, an’ Annette’s in de room back 
ob her’s, and de nusses fo’ Marse Philip has der 
spar rooms in der third flo’.” 

“Never mind, Joshua, I can camp out in this 
room. That sofa looks very comfortable,” and 
Douglas pointed to the large upholstered davenport 
which faced the empty fireplace. 

“Just a moment, Joshua,” exclaimed Brett, as the 
old butler moved toward the door. “Did you see 
Senator Carew leave the house yesterday after- 
noon?” 

“No, suh.” 

“Did he take luncheon here?” 

“No, suh; he cum in ’bout three o’clock; least- 
ways dat was when he rung fo’ me, an’ I reckon 
he’d only jes’ arrived, ’cause he had his hat an’ coat 
on his arm.” 

“What did he want with you?” 

“He axed me why Hamilton hadn’t called fo’ him 
at de Capitol as ordered, an’ when I tole him dat 
Hamilton was a-sittin’ in de stable doin’ nuffin, he 
said I was ter go right out an’ send him to de library 
— which I done.” 

“Did you see Senator Carew after that?” 

“Yessir. After ’bout fifteen minutes Hamilton 
cum out lookin’ mighty black an’ mutterin’ under his 
60 


A PIECE OF ORIENTAL SILK 


breff. Den Marse James rung fo’ me ag’in, an’ 
sent me to tell Marse Philip dat he wanted ter see 
him to onst.” 

“Was there anything unusual in Senator Carew’s 
manner?” inquired Douglas, who had been listening 
attentively to the old darky’s statements. 

“He seemed considerable put out, dat was all,” 
responded Joshua, after due reflection. 

“Was Senator Carew irritable and quick-tem- 
pered?” 

“Mostly he was real easy-going, but sometimes 
he had flare-ups, an’ den it was bes’ ter keep outer 
his way.” 

“Did you find Mr. Winthrop?” 

“Yessir. I gib him de message, an’ he went right 
down to de lib’ary.” 

“Do you know how long Senator Carew and 
young Winthrop remained in this room?” 

“No, suh. I went ter de fron’ doo’, an’ while in 
de hall I heard a regular ruction goin’ on inside dis 
room.” 

“Could you hear what was said?’ demanded 
Brett eagerly. 

Joshua shook his head. “I couldn’t make out a 
word, but Marse James’ voice was powerful riz an’ 
Marse Philip’s, too.” 

61 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“Was that the first time that Senator Carew and 
Mr. Winthrop have quarreled ?” 

“Deys had words now and den,” muttered Joshua, 
evasively. 

“About what?” broke in Douglas, sharply. 

“Oh, nuffin in particular. Marse James uster get 
mad with Marse Philip ’cause he wore so lazy, an’ 
den he’s been adrinkin’ right smart, which Marse 
James didn’t like nuther.” 

“Is Mr. Winthrop a heavy drinker?” 

“No, suh, but he’s been adrinkin’ pretty steady 
fo’ de pas’ three months.” 

“Have you any idea, Joshua, what caused the 
quarrel yesterday afternoon?” 

“Well, it mighter started over Hamilton. Marse 
Philip persuaded Marse James to keep him las’ fall 
when he was ’bout to discharge him fo’ bein’ imper- 
tinent.” 

“Did Senator Carew give you a letter to mail 
yesterday afternoon, or a note to deliver for him?” 
inquired Douglas thoughtfully. 

“No, suh, he did not,” Joshua declared with firm- 
ness. 

“How long have you been with Senator Carew, 
Joshua?” 

“Most thirty years, suh. I worked fust fo’ his 
62 


A PIECE OF ORIENTAL SILK 


father, der ole Gineral. Ef yo’ doan want me fo’ 
nuffin’ mo’, gen’man, I reckon I’ll go an’ close up de 
house fo’ de night.” 

“All right, Joshua,” and the butler beat a hasty 
retreat. 

Douglas took out his cigarette case and handed it 
to Brett. “Formed any new theory?” he asked, 
striking a match and applying it to the cigarette be- 
tween his lips. 

Brett did not answer at once. “The inquest will 
make Winthrop and Joshua talk. I am convinced 
neither of them has told all he knows of this affair,” 
he said finally. 

Douglas nodded in agreement. “But the inquest 
will have to be postponed now. Winthrop is in no 
shape to appear before it.” 

“And Miss Carew, who is an equally important 
witness, is still confined to her bed,” volunteered 
Brett. “Miss Thornton tells me that she cries when- 
ever the subject of the murder is mentioned, and that 
she is completely unstrung by the tragedy.” 

“By the way, who is this Miss Thornton?” asked 
Douglas. “And what does she look like?” 

“She is a cousin of Mrs. Truxton, of George- 
town” — Douglas whistled in surprise; Brett glanced 
at him sharply, then continued: “I am told she is 

63 


THE MAN INSIDE 


Miss Carew’s most intimate friend, although about 
five years older. Miss Thornton must be about 
twenty-three. She is tall and dark, and has the most 
magnificent blue eyes I have ever seen in a woman’s 
head.” 

Douglas drew in his breath sharply. “It must be 
the same girl whom I knew in Paris, but I had no 
idea then that she was related to old family friends 
of mine in Georgetown.” He changed the conver- 
sation abruptly. “Come, Brett, what theory 
have you formed?” he asked again with more 
emphasis. 

“I think both Winthrop and Hamilton have a 
guilty knowledge of Senator Carew’s death, but how 
deeply Winthrop is implicated we have yet to learn.” 

“But the motive?” argued Douglas. “It is highly 
improbable that Winthrop killed the Senator be- 
cause he discharged a worthless servant.” 

“If we could find that letter which I am con- 
vinced the Senator was writing when Winthrop en- 
tered the room yesterday afternoon, we would know 
the motive fast enough,” retorted Brett. 

“Have you searched Carew’s belongings?” 

“Yes, all of them, and all the furniture in his 
bedroom, sitting-room, and bath, as well as the 
rooms on this floor; but I couldn’t find a trace of 

64 


A PIECE OF ORIENTAL SILK 


it. I have also thoroughly searched his office at the 
Capitol.’* 

“Did you think to examine the landau? The Sen- 
ator might possibly have tucked it under the carriage 
seat.” 

“I thought of that, and examined the interior of 
the carriage, but there is no possible place where a 
letter could be concealed. The carriage has recently 
been reupholstered in leather and there’s no crack 
or tear where an envelope could slip through.” 

“Have you inquired at the different messenger 
services in town?” 

“Yes, but there is no record at any of their offices 
that Senator Carew sent for a messenger to deliver 
a note yesterday afternoon or night. I also sent 
word to the post-office officials asking to have an 
outlook kept, and a search made for a letter franked 
by Senator Carew and postmarked yesterday.” 

“It’s exceedingly doubtful if you get any results 
from that quarter, when you don’t know when or 
where such a letter was posted or to what city it 
was addressed.” 

“The frank may help,” Brett glanced at the 
clock. “Eleven-thirty — I must be going.” He rose. 
“Did you meet with any success, Mr. Hunter, in the 
inquiries you said you would make this afternoon?” 

65 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“In a way, yes. Winthrop was at the Alibi Club, 
taking supper with Captain Stanton. But Julian 
Wallace, who was one of the party, told me that 
Winthrop left the club about twelve-thirty.” 

Brett whistled. “And he did not reach this house 
until three hours later! I am afraid friend Win- 
throp will have much to explain when he recovers 
his senses.” 

“Hold on; the Carew carriage returned here a 
few minutes before one o’clock — when the Senator 
was found dead inside it. That only left Winthrop 
less than half an hour to get from the club to Mrs. 
Owen’s residence, a considerable distance, and com- 
mit the murder.” 

“It’s not impossible for a man in a motor,” de- 
clared Brett sharply. 

“I thought Senator Carew only kept horses,” ex- 
claimed Douglas. 

“And so he did, but Winthrop owns an Oldsmo- 
bile roadster. I was here at the house when he 
arrived this morning. The machine has a cover and 
wind-shield, so he was fairly well protected from the 
rain. As I said before, Winthrop will have much 
to explain. I hope you will have an undisturbed 
night, Mr. Hunter; I told Joshua and the nurses 
to call you if anything is needed.” 

66 


A PIECE OF ORIENTAL SILK 


“Don’t worry about me,” laughed Douglas, as 
the two men stepped into the hall. “I’ve camped 
out in much worse places than this room.” 

“Well, good night. I’ll be here the first thing in 
the morning,” and Brett pulled open the door and 
ran down the steps. 

As Douglas replaced the night latch on the front 
door, Joshua joined him. 

“I brunged yo’ dis ‘comfort’,” raising a soft eider- 
down quilt, which he carried tucked on his left arm. 
“I thought yo’ might like it over yo’ on der sofa.” 

“Thanks very much,” exclaimed Douglas, taking 
it from him. 

Joshua followed him to the library door. “I ain’t 
goin’ ter bed,” he explained. “I couldn’t sleep no- 
how,” the soft, drawling voice held a touch of 
pathos, “Marse James was mighty kind ter me — and 
thirty years is a mighty long time ter be ’sociated in 
de fam’bly. So I jes’ reckon I’ll sit on der window- 
seat in der hall. Ef yo’ want anythin’ jest let me 
know, Marse Hunter.” 

“All right, Joshua. I’ll leave this door open, so 
you can call me if I am needed. Good night.” 

Douglas placed the door ajar, and walked over 
to the well-filled bookcases, and, after some delib- 
eration, selected, a book and sat down in the re- 
67 


THE MAN INSIDE 


volving chair. The book held his attention and he 
read on and on. He finished the last chapter and 
tossed the volume on the table, then glanced at the 
clock, the dial of which registered two-thirty. The 
upholstered davenport, which stood with its back 
resting against the length of the desk table, looked 
inviting, and Douglas rose, extinguished the light, 
and walked over and lay down. 

After placing several sofa cushions under his 
head he pulled the eiderdown quilt over him, as he 
felt chilly. The added warmth and the softness of 
the couch were most grateful to his tired body. He 
was drowsily conscious of the clock striking; then 
his last thought was of Eleanor Thornton — beauti- 
ful Eleanor Thornton — strange that they should 
meet again; why, he had actually run away from her 
in Paris — a few minutes more and he was sound 
asleep. 

Some time later Douglas opened his sleepy eyes, 
then closed them again drowsily. The room was 
in total darkness. As he lay listening to the tick- 
tock of the clock he became conscious that he was 
not alone in the room. Instantly he was wide 
awake. He pulled out his matchbox, only to find it 
empty. As he lay a moment debating what he 
should do, a soft, small hand was laid on his fore- 
68 



He made out a shadowy form just ahead of him and 
darted forward” 





A PIECE OF ORIENTAL SILK 


head. He felt the sudden shock which his presence 
gave the intruder, for the fingers tightened convul- 
sively on his forehead, then were hastily removed. 
He threw out his hands to catch the intruder, but 
they closed on empty space. 

Swiftly and noiselessly Douglas rose to his feet 
and stepped softly around the end of the davenport, 
hands outstretched, groping for what he could not 
see. Suddenly, his eyes grown accustomed to the 
darkness, he made out a shadowy form just ahead 
of him and darted forward. His foot caught in the 
long wire of the desk telephone and, dragging the 
instrument clattering with him, he fell forward, 
striking his face and forehead against the edge of 
the open door. 

“Fo* de lub ob Hebben!” gasped Joshua, awak- 
ened out of a sound sleep, and scared almost out 
of his wits. “Marse Hunter! Marse Hunter! 
Whar yo’ at?” 

“Here,” answered Douglas. “Turn on the hall 
light; then come to me.” 

Obediently Joshua groped his way to the button 
and switched on the light, after which he hastened 
into the library and did the same there. Douglas, 
who sat on the floor nursing a bleeding nose, blinked 
as the strong light met his dazed eyes. 

69 


THE MAN INSIDE 

“Did you see anyone leave this room, Joshua?” 
he demanded. 

“No, suh.” The butler’s eyes were rolling about 
to an alarming extent, showing the whites against 
his black face, which had grown gray with fright. 
“ ’Twarn’t no one ter see — it must ter been a harnt.” 

“Nonsense,” exclaimed Douglas heatedly. The 
telephone bell was keeping up a dull clicking as the 
sleepy central tried to find out what was wanted, and 
he leaned over and replaced the receiver on the hook 
as he picked up the instrument. “No ghost put out 
your hall light, and no ghost wears clothes. I 
caught the intruder’s gown, and if it hadn’t ripped 
away I’d have caught her.” As he spoke he opened 
his right hand and disclosed a torn piece of oriental 
silk. 


CHAPTER VIII 


KISMET 

G OOD morning, Uncle Dana.” 

The tall, distinguished looking, 
gray-haired man standing in front of 
the mantel wheeled around with a visible start of 
surprise. 

“Good Lord! Eleanor, I didn’t hear you enter 
the room. How silently you move, dear.” 

Eleanor’s pretty mouth dimpled into a smile as 
she kissed her uncle warmly. “I’ll send you an ear- 
trumpet,” she declared, saucily. “Come and sit by 
me on this sofa. Did you get my note this morn- 
ing?” 

“How like a woman!” He dropped down on the 
comfortable rosewood sofa with a sigh of content. 
“Of course I received it — why otherwise should I 
be here?” 

“Then you will take the case?” she asked eagerly. 
“I am not a criminal lawyer.” 

7 * 


THE MAN INSIDE 


Eleanor’s face fell. “Oh, don’t refuse,” she 
begged earnestly. “Dear Mrs. Winthrop needs 
some one to watch her interests, and if, later on, 
occasion requires a criminal lawyer, which pray 
Heaven may not be, you can then engage one for 
her. She was so relieved when I suggested sending 
for you.” 

“In what way does Mrs. Winthrop need my serv- 
ices?” 

“Why, to take charge of everything” — vaguely. 
“A man in authority is required here at once.” 

“Where is Philip?” 

“Philip!” Eleanor’s tone spoke her contempt. 
“He is sick in bed — a trained nurse in attendance” 
— then added quickly, answering her uncle’s un- 
spoken question — “too much dissipation has again 
caused his downfall.” 

“Urn ! I don’t envy Mrs. Winthrop her precious 
stepson.” Colonel Thornton’s pleasant face hard- 
ened, and Eleanor, seeing her advantage, pressed 
the point. 

“Mrs. Winthrop is almost overwhelmed with 
anxiety and sorrow, which she has practically to 
face alone. Do, Uncle Dana, if it is possible, take 
some of this dreadful responsibility off her shoul- 
ders.” 


72 


KISMET 


“I will do what I can,” announced the Colonel, 
after a moment’s deliberation. 

Eleanor clapped her hands. “Dear Uncle Dana ! 
I knew you would, when you thought it over. Just 
a moment — I’ll send word to Mrs. Winthrop that 
you are here; she wants to see you.” 

Joshua was in the hall, and to him Eleanor con- 
fided her message for Mrs. Winthrop, then returned 
to the drawing-room and seated herself on the sofa 
by her uncle. 

“Did you ever know anyone in Georgetown 
named Douglas Hunter?” she inquired. 

“Douglas Hunter — Douglas — why, surely, he 
must be the young son of John Hunter who used to 
be a neighbor of mine in Georgetown. Cousin Kate 
Truxton can tell you all about the Hunters. She was 
an intimate friend of John’s wife. The Hunters 
belong to the F. F. V.’s. Why do you ask about 
Douglas?” 

“Joshua told me that he spent last night here, and 
that he is taking a deep interest in the mystery sur- 
rounding Senator Carew’s tragic death.” 

“You must be mistaken,” exclaimed Thornton, 
glancing at her in surprise. “To the best of my 
recollection Douglas Hunter entered the consular 
service very soon after he left college ; then Carew 
73 


THE MAN INSIDE 

evinced an interest in his career and had him trans- 
ferred into the Diplomatic Service. He’s not a de- 
tective, child.” 

“Well, he’s acting as if he were one — prying 
around” — Eleanor checked her hasty speech and 
rose as the portieres parted, and Mrs. Winthrop 
advanced into the room. She was a well-known fig- 
ure in Washington society. Although small of stat- 
ure, her erect carriage and graceful movements 
made her seem taller than she really was. She was 
said to have the longest calling list in Washington, 
and, although an aristocrat to her fingertips, she had 
friends and acquaintances in every walk in life, for 
she possessed the true spirit of democracy which 
springs from a kind heart and does not ape humility. 
She had been of inestimable assistance to her 
brother, Senator Carew, during his political career. 

As Colonel Thornton bowed low over her small, 
blue-veined hand, he noticed the heavy lines and 
dark shadows which fatigue and sorrow had traced 
under her eyes, and his hand closed over hers in 
silent sympathy. 

“It is good of you to come, Colonel,” she began, 
seating herself in a large armchair next the sofa, 
“and still kinder to offer to advise me, I feel 
stunned” — she put her hand to her head with a ges- 
74 


KISMET 


ture pathetic in its helplessness, and her sad eyes 
filled with unbidden tears. Eleanor put out her 
hand, and it was instantly clasped by the older 
woman. “Forgive me, Colonel.” She blinked the 
tears away, and by a visible effort regained her lost 
composure. “My brother was very dear to me, 
and ” 

“I know no man who had more friends,” replied 
Thornton gravely, as she paused and bit her trem- 
bling lips. 

“Exactly, therefore his violent death seems mon- 
strous!” declared Mrs. Winthrop. “Who would 
commit such a deed? My brother’s greatest fault 
was his kind heart — he accomplished so much good 
unobtrusively. Now, Colonel, the first thing I wish 
to consult you about is offering a reward for the 
discovery of his murderer. Can you arrange it for 
me?” 

“Certainly. I think it a wise suggestion. How 
much shall it be?” Thornton drew out his note- 
book. 

“Five thousand dollars;” then, noting Thornton’s 
expression, asked: “You think it too much?” 

“It would perhaps be better to commence with a 
smaller sum — say one thousand dollars — then you 
can increase it, if that amount brings no results.” 

75 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“That is a capital plan. Well, James, what is 
it?” to the footman who had entered a second before 
and approached her chair. 

“Mr. Brett wants to know, ma’am, if you will see 
him an’ Mister Hunter fo’ a few minutes. They 
want to ax yo’ a few questions.” 

Mrs. Winthrop glanced interrogatively at Thorn- 
ton. “What shall I do?” 

“Perhaps it would be just as well to see them,” 
he replied. 

“Very well. James, show the gentlemen in here,” 
and, as the servant hastened out of the room, she 
turned to her two guests. “You must be present at 
this interview, and I depend on you, Colonel Thorn- 
ton, to check any undue inquisitiveness on the part 
of the detective.” 

“I will, madam,” and Thornton’s grim tone con- 
veyed more than the mere words. He ranked as one 
of the leaders of the District bar, and few opposing 
lawyers dared take liberties with him when trying a 
case. 

Eleanor made a motion to rise, but Mrs. Win- 
throp checked her with a low-toned “Wait, dear,” 
as Brett, followed by Douglas Hunter, strode into 
the room. 

Mrs. Winthrop acknowledged Brett’s bow with a 

76 


KISMET 


courteous inclination of her head, but, as he mur- 
mured Douglas’ name in introducing him, she rose 
and shook hands with him. 

“I have frequently heard my brother speak of 
you, Mr. Hunter,” she said, “and have regretted 
not meeting you before,” and, as Douglas voiced his 
thanks, she added, “Eleanor, Mr. Hunter” — and 
Douglas gazed deep into the beautiful eyes which 
had haunted his memory since their last meeting in 
Paris. For one second his glance held hers, while 
a soft blush mantled her cheeks; then Colonel 
Thornton stepped forward briskly and extended his 
hand. 

“No need of an introduction here, Douglas,” he 
said heartily. “I should have known you anywhere 
from your likeness to your father, though I haven’t 
seen you since you wore knickerbockers.” 

“I haven’t forgotten ‘Thornton’s Nest,’ nor you 
either, Colonel,” exclaimed Douglas, clasping his 
hand warmly. “I about lived on your grounds be- 
fore I went to boarding school.” 

“Pray be seated, gentlemen,” and, in obedience to 
Mrs. Winthrop’s gesture, Douglas pulled up a chair 
near hers, while Brett and Colonel Thornton did 
likewise. “Now, Mr. Brett, what do you wish to 
ask me?” 


77 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“Have you any idea where Senator Carew dined 
the night of his death?” 

“Not the slightest,” was the positive reply. 

“Was it your brother’s custom not to inform you 
where he was dining?” asked Brett. 

“Stop a moment,” Thornton held up a protesting 
hand. “Mrs. Winthrop, you cannot be compelled 
to answer questions put to you by Mr. Brett; he has 
no legal right to examine you now.” 

“I am quite aware of that, Colonel Thornton,” 
put in Brett composedly: “I am asking these ques- 
tions that I may gain a little more light on this mys- 
tery. I only saw Mrs. Winthrop for a short time 
yesterday, and, while I do not wish to intrude, I feel 
that I can accomplish better results by a longer talk. 
This tragedy must be investigated thoroughly.” 

“Very true; but you forget, Mr. Brett, that the 
inquest is the proper place for bringing out testi- 
mony. Mrs. Winthrop will have to appear before 
it, and, until that is held, she must not be pestered 
with questions or harrowed by intrusions.” 

“I am willing to answer all questions within 
reason,” said Mrs. Winthrop, before the detective 
could reply. “If you mean, Mr. Brett, that Senator 
Carew was secretive about his movements, you are 
mistaken. On the contrary, he was most open and 
78 


KISMET 


above board in his dealings with me. Occasionally, 
when hurried, he did not tell me his plans for the 
day, but, as a general thing, I knew all his social 
engagements.” 

“Ah, his social engagements,’ 5 echoed Brett, 
“how about his official engagements, Mrs. Win- 
throp?” 

“With those I had nothing to do. I never med- 
dled in my brother’s political or official career; that 
was out of my province,” was the calm reply. 

“Then you think it likely that he dined with some 
of his official colleagues?” 

“I am unable to express an opinion on the sub- 
ject.” 

“You had better ask his private secretary what 
engagements he made for Monday, and with whom 
he was last seen,” broke in Thornton. 

“Mr. Philip Winthrop is in no condition to answer 
questions now. He will be examined before the 
coroner’s inquest when able to leave his room.” 

“Then I do not see the object of this interview,” 
objected Thornton. “Young Mr. Winthrop is bet- 
ter able to tell you of Senator Carew’s movements 
that day than Mrs. Winthrop.” 

“I cannot wait so long.” Brett shook his head 
decidedly. “What clews there are will grow cold, 
79 


THE MAN INSIDE 


and I cannot afford to risk that. I am deeply in- 
terested in clearing up this terrible affair.” 

“And do you think I am less so?” demanded Mrs. 
Winthrop indignantly. “On the contrary, Mr. 
Brett, I will move Heaven and earth to find the per- 
petrator of that dastardly deed. I have just told 
Colonel Thornton that I will offer a reward of one 
thousand dollars for information leading to the 
criminal’s arrest.” 

“Ah, then you do not think the negro coachman, 
Hamilton, guilty?” put in Brett quickly. 

“I have not said so,” but Mrs. Winthrop looked 
disconcerted for a second, then regained her usual 
serenity. “My idea in offering the reward was to 
assist your investigation, and Colonel Thornton 
agreed with me that it was an excellent plan.” 

“Mrs. Winthrop,” the detective spoke with 
greater distinctness, “was Senator Carew on good 
terms with all the members of his family?” 

“He was, sir, with members of this household.” 
Mrs. Winthrop hesitated briefly, then continued, “I 
think that I had better tell you that, since his return 
from Panama a short time ago, my brother received 
a number of threatening letters.” 

“Indeed,” Brett’s tone betrayed his satisfaction. 
“Can I see the letters?” 


80 


KISMET 


“Unfortunately my brother destroyed the one he 
showed me.” 

“What was its contents?” inquired Brett. 

“To the best of my recollection the message, 
which was written in an obviously disguised writing, 
read somewhat like this : 

“ ‘Your movements are watched. If you act, you 
die’.” 

“Did you see the envelope?” asked Brett, as he 
jotted down the words in his memorandum book. 

“No. At the time my brother showed it to me 
he told me that he had received several others; that 
he had no idea to what they referred; and that he 
never paid attention to anonymous communications.” 

“I see.” Brett thoughtfully replaced his notebook 
in his pocket. “Can I talk to your niece, Miss Cyn- 
thia Carew?” 

Mrs. Winthrop shook her head. “She is still too 
prostrated to be interviewed.” 

“Poor little soul ! It was a ghastly experience for 
her,” ejaculated Colonel Thornton. 

“It was indeed,” agreed Mrs. Winthrop. “She 
was devoted to her uncle, and he to her. Conse- 
quently the shock has driven her half out of her 
mind.” 

“Miss Thornton — ” Brett turned and faced 
81 


THE MAN INSIDE 


Eleanor — “do you know to whom Miss Carew re- 
ferred when she exclaimed on greeting you yesterday 
afternoon: ‘They quarreled, Eleanor, they quar- 
reled!’” 

Mrs. Winthrop caught her breath sharply. 

“Why, her words referred to Hamilton, the coach- 
man,” replied Eleanor quietly, and her eyes did not 
waver before Brett’s stern glance. 

The detective broke the short silence which fol- 
lowed. “I won’t detain you longer, Mrs. Winthrop. 
I am exceedingly obliged to you for the information 
you have furnished. Mr. Hunter, are you coming 
down town?” 

Douglas nodded an affirmative as he rose. Mrs. 
Winthrop and Colonel Thornton detained Brett 
with a question as he was leaving the room. Doug- 
las seized his opportunity, and crossed over to 
Eleanor’s side. 

“How have you been since I saw you last, Miss 
Thornton?” he inquired. 

“Very well, thanks. And you?” — Eleanor in- 
spected him with good-natured raillery: “You look 
— as serious as ever.” 

Douglas reddened. “It has been my lot in life 
to have to take things seriously. I’m not such a 
Puritan as you evidently think me.” 

82 


KISMET 


“Come and see me, and perhaps on better ac- 
quaintance” — she paused. 

“What?” 

“You will improve.” Her charming, roguish 
smile robbed the words of their sting. 

“You think then that I am an acquired taste?” 

“I have not seen enough of you to know.” 

“When may I call on you?” 

She parried the question with another. 

“Why did you leave Paris without saying good-by 
to me?” 

The simple question sobered Douglas. It brought 
back an unpleasant recollection best forgotten. 
Eleanor’s bewitching personality had always exerted 
an extraordinary influence over him. He found 
himself watching her every movement, instinct with 
grace, and eagerly waiting to catch her smile. In 
Paris he had often cursed himself for a fool, even 
when attending a reception just to catch a glimpse of 
her. She was a born coquette, and could no more 
help enjoying an innocent flirtation than a kitten 
could help frolicking. It was her intense femininity 
which had first attracted him. Frightened at the 
influence she unconsciously exerted over him, he had 
deliberately avoided her — and Fate had thrown 
them together again. It was Kismet! Therefore, 
83 


THE MAN INSIDE 


m why not enjoy the goods the gods provided and be 
thankful? 

“ ‘Time and tide wait for no man,’ ” he quoted. 
“I had to catch a steamer at a moment’s notice, 
hence the ‘P. P. C.’ card. Please show your for- 
giveness, and let me call.” 

“And if I don’t?” 

“Why, I’ll come anyway.” 

Eleanor’s eyes twinkled. “Bravo. I like the 
spirit of young Lochinvar.” 

“He came out of the West, whereas I come out 
of the East.” 

“Oh, well, extremes meet.” 

“Then don’t be surprised if I carry you off.” The 
words were spoken in jest, but the look in Douglas’ 
eyes caused Eleanor to blush hotly. 

“Marse Brett am awaitin’ fo’ yo’, suh,” said 
Joshua from the doorway, breaking in on the tete- 
a-tete. 

“Oh, — ah, — yes.” Douglas was suddenly con- 
scious of the absence of the others. “Miss Thorn- 
ton, I had no idea I was detaining you. Please say 
good-by to Mrs. Winthrop and your uncle. I 
never realized in Paris that you belonged to the 
Thorntons in Georgetown.” 

“You never took the trouble to make inquiries 
84 


KISMET 


about me?” She surprised a look in Douglas’ face — * 
why did he appear as if caught? The expression 
was fleeting, but Eleanor’s eyes hardened. “Good- 
bye,” she turned abruptly away, without seeing his 
half-extended hand. 

Douglas looked anything but pleasant when he 
joined Brett, who stood waiting for him in the vesti- 
bule. They strolled down Massachusetts Avenue 
for over a block in absolute silence. 

Brett was the first to speak. “When you were 
eating breakfast I saw Annette, Miss Thornton’s 
French maid, and questioned her in regard to the 
dressing gowns worn by the Carew household.” 

“What luck did you meet with?” inquired Doug- 
las, rousing from a deep study. 

“She says Mrs. Winthrop, Miss Carew, and Miss 
Thornton all wear dressing gowns made of oriental 
silk.” 

“Upon my word!” ejaculated Douglas, much 
astonished. “Still, they can’t be the same pattern.” 

“It won’t be so easy to identify your midnight 
caller by means of that silk,” taking out the slip 
which Douglas had torn from the dressing gown the 
night before. “Annette says the gowns were given 
to Mrs. Winthrop and Miss Carew by Miss Thorn- 
ton, who purchased them, with hers, at a Japanese 

85 


THE MAN INSIDE 


store in H Street. The French girl isn’t above ac- 
cepting a bribe, so when I suggested her showing me 
the gowns, she got them and brought them into the 
library, while Mrs. Winthrop and Miss Thornton 
were breakfasting in Miss Carew’s boudoir.” 

“Did you see all three of them?” 

“Yes, and they are as alike as two peas in a pod. 
And, Mr. Hunter,” his voice deepened impressively, 
“I examined them with the greatest care, and not 
one kimono was torn — nor had any one of them 
ever been mended.” 


CHAPTER IX 


AT THE STATE DEPARTMENT 

T HIS gentleman has called to see you, 
sir,” and the messenger handed a visit- 
ing card to the Secretary of State, who 
laid his pen down on his desk and carefully inspected 
the card. 

“Show Mr. Hunter in,” he directed, then looked 
across at his stenographer. “You need not wait, 
Jones.” 

As the stenographer gathered up his papers and 
hastened out of the room, Douglas was ushered in, 
and after a few words of greeting the Secretary 
motioned him to take the large leather chair placed 
beside his desk. 

“I was sorry not to find you when I called yes- 
terday, Mr. Secretary,” began Douglas. 

“I was detained in the West and did not get here 
until this morning. What do you wish to see me 
about, Mr. Hunter?” 


87 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“First, to thank you for granting me a leave of 
absence.” 

“That is all right. Senator Carew came here and 
asked as a particular favor to him that you be al- 
lowed to return to Washington. By the way, his 
death was terrible, terrible. His loss will be felt by 
the whole country.” 

“It will, indeed,” agreed Douglas. 

“Did you see Senator Carew before his death?” 

“No, Mr. Secretary; I only reached Washington 
on Monday, the night of his murder.” 

“It seems an outrage in these days of our boasted 
civilization that a man of such brilliant attainments, 
a man whose life is of benefit to his country, should 
be killed wantonly by a worthless, drunken negro,” 
exclaimed the Secretary, with much feeling. 

“You believe, then, that Senator Carew was mur- 
dered by his servant?” 

“I gathered that impression from the newspapers, 
and they all insist that the negro is guilty. Do you 
think otherwise?” 

“I do.” 

“And your reasons?” 

“The use of the letter-file, an extraordinary 
weapon for a negro coachman to use.” 

“Is that your only reason for believing the negro 

88 


AT THE STATE DEPARTMENT 


innocent?” The Secretary’s piercing eyes studied 
Douglas’ face intently. 

“No, sir.” 

“Is there anything which strikes you as being of 
vital importance in the case which has not yet been 
brought out?” 

“Senator Carew was chairman of the Foreign 
Relations Committee.” 

The Secretary stared at Douglas for a full minute 
without speaking. 

“I don’t quite catch your meaning, Mr. Hunter,” 
he said finally. 

“Let me explain, Mr. Secretary,” began Douglas 
earnestly. “Some time ago I received a letter from 
Senator Carew suggesting that I apply for leave of 
absence.” 

“Why?” snapped out the Secretary. 

“He did not specify directly,” returned Douglas 
calmly; “he said he wished to consult me about my 
future. One moment” — as the Secretary opened 
his lips to speak. “At the end of the letter the Sen- 
ator added that he hoped I was making the most 
of my opportunities; that it was only the part of 
wisdom to inform myself of all that was going on 
in Japan, and that he expected that I would be able 
to give him some interesting data about the ‘Yankees 
89 


THE MAN INSIDE 


of the East,’ as he had always been curious as 
regards their customs, past history, and future 
plans.” 

The Secretary settled back in his chair and fum- 
bled with his watch chain. He was the first to break 
the silence. “Did you follow Senator Carew’s ad- 
vice?” 

“I did, sir.” 

“With what results?” 

“Among other things I discovered that there was 
an unusual activity commencing in the shipyards; 
army maneuvers were being conducted unostenta- 
tiously, and finally, the day I sailed, I heard a report 
that three transports were being fitted out at Waka- 
yama, a closed port, and were to sail shortly under 
sealed orders.” 

“Excellent ! Have you any idea of the transports’ 
destination?” 

“No, sir.” 

“Why did you not send me this information be- 
fore?” the Secretary spoke with unwonted stern- 
ness. 

“I did cable a cipher despatch to Senator Carew. 
I thought you had requested him to get certain in- 
formation, and did not care to have it sent through 
the Department directly.” 


90 


AT THE STATE DEPARTMENT 


“The Senator did not take me into his confidence 
in the matter,” declared the Secretary, studying his 
companion’s face intently. 

“That’s very strange,” muttered Douglas. “Very 
strange. Detective Brett, who is investigating the 
Carew case, declares, from writing found on a blot- 
ter, that the Senator wrote a letter to some unknown 
person. On one side of the blotter were clearly 
traced the words: ‘Am writing in case I don’t see 
you before . . .’ — and on the other: ‘I have dis- 
covered . . .’ Brett thinks Senator Carew was in- 
terrupted on two occasions while writing the letter, 
and laid the blotter on the fresh ink to prevent the 
person who entered from seeing what he had writ- 
ten.” 

The Secretary followed Douglas’ story with the 
greatest attention. “A likely hypothesis,” he ac- 
knowledged, slowly settling back in his revolving 
chair, for he had been leaning forward on his desk 
the better to catch every word spoken by Douglas 
in his quiet monotone. “To whom do you think that 
letter was written?” 

“To you, undoubtedly, Mr. Secretary. Possibly 
my information may have given him the clew he 
needed to verify certain suspicions. You were in 
the West, he wanted to get the news to you without 
9i 


THE MAN INSIDE 


further delay, and the only thing he could do was to 
write or wire.” 

“Or telephone,” supplemented the Secretary; 
then, as Douglas’ face brightened, he added, “Un- 
fortunately for your theory Senator Carew did none 
of those things.” 

“You mean ?” 

“That I have never received a letter, a telegram, 
or a telephone from him while I was away,” an- 
nounced the Secretary solemnly. 

“He may still have written a message and have 
been killed before he could get it off to you.” 

“Has such a letter been found by Brett?” 

“No, sir; nor any trace of it. So far, he has 
been unable to find out whether such a letter was 
seen or posted by any member of the Senator’s 
household. All he has to go on is the blotter.” 

“Why did you not go at once to see Senator 
Carew when you arrived in Washington?” 

“Because my cousin, Captain Taylor, who met me 
at the Union Station, gave me a note from Senator 
Carew asking me to call on him at nine o’clock 
Tuesday morning at his residence.” 

“How did the Senator know where a note would 
reach you?” 

“He enclosed it in a note to my cousin asking him 
92 


AT THE STATE DEPARTMENT 


to see that it was delivered to me at once on my 
arrival.” 

“Has it occurred to you that Senator Carew’s 
missing letter, which Brett is so anxious to find, may 
have been addressed to you?” 

“I never thought of that!” exclaimed Douglas, “I 
was so thoroughly convinced that he had tried to 
communicate with you.” 

“I would inquire about your mail if I were you, 
Mr. Hunter.” 

“I will do so at once,” Douglas half rose. 

“No, no, sit down.” The Secretary waited until 
Douglas had resumed his seat. “Where are you 
stopping?” 

“At the Albany.” 

“You have brought me very serious news, Mr. 
Hunter. So serious that I must insist on some veri- 
fication of your statements about Japan before you 
leave me.” 

Douglas took from a cleverly concealed pocket in 
the lining of his coat a number of sheets of rice 
paper and handed them to the Secretary, who studied 
the closely written papers long and intently. Sud- 
denly he pulled open a desk drawer and took out his 
strong box. 

“I will keep these papers, Mr. Hunter, for future 

93 


THE MAN INSIDE 


reference/’ he announced, unlocking the box and 
placing the rice papers in it. Then, with equal care, 
he replaced the box in the drawer, which he locked 
securely. “We must go slowly in this matter. A 
slip on our part, and two great nations may become 
involved in a needless and bloody war.” 

“I realize the gravity of the situation, Mr. Secre- 
tary, and have come to you for advice in the mat- 
ter.” 

“Good. I depend on you not to mention our con- 
versation to anyone, nor do I think it wise to ac- 
quaint Brett at this time with your suspicions in re- 
gard to the motive for Senator Carew’s murder. 
With all good intentions Brett might blunder and 
cause international complications.” 

Douglas stroked his clean-shaven chin reflectively 
for a moment. “Don’t you think, Mr. Secretary, 
that there is danger of being too secretive, and 
that the guilty party may slip through our 
fingers?” 

“It is a risk which we will have to take. Frankly, 
I think you and Brett are equal to the situation. 
The Secretary glanced at his watch. “Have you 
any engagement just now, Mr. Hunter?” 

“No, sir. My time is at your disposal.” 

The Secretary reached up and touched the electric 

94 


AT THE STATE DEPARTMENT 


buzzer hanging above his desk, and in a few seconds 
his stenographer appeared from another room. 

“Jones, call up Secretary Wyndham and ask if 
he can see me,” and, as the clerk disappeared to 
execute his order, he turned back to Douglas. 
“There are certain charts of the Pacific which I wish 
you to see; they have been made recently. Well, 
Jones?” as the clerk reentered his office. 

“Secretary Wyndham is expecting you, sir.” 

“Thanks. Now, Mr. Hunter, get your hat, and 
we will go to the Navy Department.” 


CHAPTER X 


THE THEFT 

T HE Secretary of State and Douglas hastened 
through the wide corridors of the immense 
State, War, and Navy Building. As they 
passed an elevator shaft in the navy wing, Douglas 
caught a fleeting glimpse of Eleanor Thornton in 
one of the lifts as it shot downward toward the 
ground floor. On their arrival they were ushered 
at once into Secretary Wyndham’s private office. 

“Glad to see you,” exclaimed Wyndham, “your 
call is most opportune” — he stopped on seeing 
Douglas standing behind the Secretary of State, and 
his eyebrows went up questioningly. 

“Thisv is Mr. Douglas Hunter, attache of the 
American Embassy at Tokio, Wyndham,” explained 
the Secretary of State. 

“How are you, sir.” The Secretary of the Navy 
shook hands brusquely. “Will you both be seated?” 

“I brought Mr. Hunter with me that he might 
tell you of certain information which he gathered 
96 


THE THEFT 


in Japan about some prospective movements of their 
navy.” He glanced significantly at Douglas, who 
nodded understandingly, and without more words 
gave a clear, concise statement of naval affairs in 
Japan, omitting all mention of other matters. 

Secretary Wyndham listened to his remarks with 
the closest attention. When he ceased speaking 
Wyndham sprang from his chair and, walking over 
to the adjoining room, spoke to his confidential 
clerk, then closed the door and returned. 

“I have told him to admit no one,” he explained 
briefly, as he seated himself in his swivel chair. 

“May we see the new charts of the Pacific?” in- 
quired the Secretary of State, moving his chair closer 
to the other’s desk. 

“Certainly; but first I must tell you of a remark- 
able occurrence which took place here earlier this 
morning.” A violent fit of coughing interrupted 
Wyndham, and it was some minutes before he could 
speak clearly. “Ah!” he gasped, tilting back in his 
chair and mopping his flushed face, “a spring cold 
is almost impossible to cure.” 

“I don’t think yours will be improved if you con- 
tinue to sit in a direct draft,” remonstrated the 
Secretary of State, pointing to the open windows. 

“I had to have air. By George ! man, if you had 

97 


THE MAN INSIDE 


been through what I have this morning ” he did 

not complete his sentence. 

“What happened?” asked the Secretary of State, 
with growing interest. 

“The plans of the two new dreadnaughts have 
been stolen.” 

“Impossible!” The Secretary of State half 
started from his chair. 

“Impossible? Well, I’d have said the same five 
hours ago,” dryly. 

“Were they stolen from this office?” asked 
Douglas. 

“Yes, and not only from this office, but under my 
very eyes.” 

“How?” 

“To give you both a clear idea I must go into 
details,” Wyndham drew his chair up closer and 
lowered his voice. “About twelve o’clock my pri- 
vate secretary brought me word that a man wished 
to see me personally. Of course, I have daily callers 
who all wish to see me personally, and usually my 
secretary takes care of them. This particular caller 
refused to give his name and said he would explain 
his business to me alone. I thought he was simply 
a harmless crank, and told my secretary to get rid 
of him as soon as possible.” Wyndham sighed. “In 
98 


THE THEFT 


a few minutes my secretary was back in the office, 
saying that the stranger had a message for me from 
Senator Carew.” 

“A written message ?” asked the Secretary of 
State. 

“No, a verbal one. With everyone else in Wash- 
ington, I have taken great interest in the terrible 
murder of my old friend. The man’s statement 
aroused my interest, and, having a few minutes of 
leisure, I told my secretary to show him in.” 

“What did he look like?” inquired the Secretary 
of State, deeply interested. 

“A tall, dark chap; his hair and beard were 
black, and he had the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen in 
human head.” 

“Was he well dressed?” 

“No, his clothes were shabby but fairly neat. He 
looked as if he had spruced up for the occasion. I 
can’t say I was prepossessed in his favor by his ap- 
pearance.” 

“Did he give you his name?” 

“No.” 

“Do you think he was an American?” put in 
Douglas. 

“It’s hard to say. At first I sized him up as being 
a Spaniard.” 


99 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“Didn’t you ask his name?” again inquired the 
Secretary of State impatiently. 

“I did, and his errand. He ignored my first ques- 
tion, and in answer to the second said that he had 
come to examine some records. I informed him that 
he had come to the wrong office, and that my clerk 
would direct him to the proper room. He then 
made the astounding statement that he had an ap- 
pointment to meet Senator Carew here in this office 
at twelve o’clock. I was taken completely by sur- 
prise by the man’s statement and asked: ‘What 
day did you expect to meet Senator Carew here?’ 

“ ‘This morning, at twelve o’clock,’ he answered, 
and then added, ‘He is late.’ 

“Thinking the man a little daft or drunk, though 
I could detect no sign of liquor, I said abruptly, ‘A 
likely tale; Senator Carew is dead.’ 

“ ‘Dead!’ he shouted, springing out of his chair. 

“ ‘Yes, dead — murdered last Monday night.’ I 
hadn’t anticipated giving him such a shock, or I 
would have broken the news more gently. The 
effect on my visitor was appalling. He collapsed on 
the floor in a fit. The electric bells in this office are 
out of order, and, although I shouted for help, no 
one heard me. I sprang out of my chair, undid the 
man’s necktie and collar, threw the contents of my 
ioo 


THE THEFT 


ice pitcher in his face, and then bolted into the other 
room to get assistance. Most of the clerks had 
gone out to their lunch. I called two men who hap- 
pened to be eating their lunch in an adjoining room, 
and we hastened back here only to find my strange 
visitor gone !” 

“Gone!” ejaculated the Secretary of State. 

“Vanished. The only sign of his presence was 
the spilled ice water on the floor, and that chair 
overturned,” pointing to the one Douglas was oc- 
cupying. 

“Did no one see him slip out of the door into the 
hall?” asked Douglas. 

“No. Unfortunately the messenger, who sits 
near my door, had gone into the room across the 
corridor. The man made a quick getaway, and 
luck broke with him, for no one noticed him leaving 
the building.” 

“How do you know he isn’t hiding somewhere?” 
inquired Douglas. 

“If he is, he will be captured, for Chief Connor 
and a number of Secret Service men are searching 
the building.” 

“When did you discover the plans of the battle- 
ships were missing?” 

Wyndham swore softly. “That’s the devilish 


IOI 


THE MAN INSIDE 


part of it,” he said bitterly. “As soon as I realized 
the man had really run away I glanced over my 
papers. Everything seemed to be all right. I pulled 
open this drawer,” opening it as he spoke, “and saw 
these blue prints lying exactly as I had placed them 
under this folded newspaper. I slammed the drawer 
shut, thinking my strange visitor was simply a harm- 
less lunatic, who had probably read about Carew’s 
death until he became obsessed with the subject, and 
dismissed the matter from my mind.” 

“Was this drawer locked when your strange vis- 
itor was admitted?” 

“No.” 

“Then anyone might have stolen the papers,” ex- 
claimed the Secretary of State in surprise. 

Wyndham reddened. “No, they could not. The 
only time Eve been out of this room was when I ran 
out looking for aid for that miserable scoundrel. 
That is the only chance there has been to steal the 
papers.” 

“You think, then,” began Douglas, checking his 
remarks off on his fingers, “first, that the whole 
thing was a plot; that the man used Senator Carew’s 
name to arouse your interest or curiosity; that he 
faked a fit, and in your absence removed the plans 
and substituted false blueprints, taking a chance that 
102 


THE THEFT 


you would simply look to see that everything was 
safe in your drawer and not examine further, and 
then made his escape.” 

“You’ve hit it exactly,” acknowledged Wyndham. 
“Those were the conclusions reached by Chief Con- 
nor also.” 

“It was no irresponsible person who committed 
that theft,” declared the Secretary of State thought- 
fully. “It was a well-laid plot, neatly carried out. 
How long have the papers been in your possession, 
Wyndham?” 

“They were sent here yesterday for my inspec- 
tion. There has been a leak here somewhere, damn 
it!” Wyndham set his bulldog jaw. “I’ll trace it 

to the bottom, and when I find out ” he clenched 

his fists menacingly. 

“What callers did you see besides the Spaniard?” 
asked Douglas. 

“Let me see — the usual run, several office seekers, 
a number of naval officers — oh, yes, my wife came 
in with Colonel Thornton and his niece, Miss 
Eleanor Thornton.” 

“Before or after the Spaniard had been here?” 
questioned Douglas swiftly. 

“Shortly afterward. They came in about a quar- 
ter of one and did not stay long.” 

103 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“After you had discovered the loss of the 
plans?” 

“No, before. I only discovered their loss three- 
quarters of an hour ago.” 

“How long were your wife and her friends in this 
office?” inquired Douglas persistently. 

“About fifteen minutes.” 

“Then how does it happen that I saw Miss 
Eleanor Thornton descending in one of the elevators 
when the Secretary and I were on our way to this 
office to see you?” 

“Oh, Miss Eleanor told me that she was going to 
the library to look up the records of some of her 
ancestors, as she wishes to join the Colonial Dames. 
I think she has been up there ever since. My wife 
and Colonel Thornton left together without waiting 
for her.” 

“You are absolutely certain, Wyndham, that you 
haven’t been out of this office except on that one 
occasion?” asked the Secretary of State for the sec- 
ond time. 

“I will take my Bible oath on it,” exclaimed 
Wyndham solemnly. 

The three men gazed at each other in silence, each 
busy with his own thoughts. The Secretary of State 
was the first to recover himself. 


104 


THE THEFT 


“Have you had your lunch, Wyndham?” he in- 
quired. 

The latter shook his head. “I’ve lost my appe- 
tite,” he growled. 

The Secretary of State rose and placed his hand 
on the broad shoulder of the younger man. “Don’t 
take it so much to heart, Wyndham,” he said kindly. 
“We’ll get at the bottom of this tangle before long. 
We’ll all stand by and help you, and, remember, 
Chief Connor is a host in himself.” 

“Thanks,” Wyndham straightened his bent shoul- 
ders; his face was set and his eyes snapped as the 
spirit of the born fighter returned. “I’ll move 
Heaven and earth until I catch that Spaniard. Must 
you both be going?” 

“Yes.” The Secretary of State answered for 
Douglas as well as for himself. “We have detained 
you quite long enough. Let me know immediately 
of any new developments.” 

“I will. Mr. Hunter, it’s been a pleasure to meet 
you, although I am afraid the information you have 
given me, considered with the loss of the plans of 
the new battleships, complicates the situation. 
Good-bye, come and see me again,” and the big door 
swung shut. 

Halfway down the corridor the Secretary of State 
105 


THE MAN INSIDE 


paused and regarded Douglas seriously. “Talk of 

complicated situations ” he passed his hand 

wearily over his forehead, then started with sudden 
resolution. “Come on, Hunter, I’m going over to 
the White House; a talk with the President may 
clear my brain. Wyndham may have lost his appe- 
tite, but he’s given us food for thought.” 


CHAPTER XI 


OVER THE TEA CUPS 

C YNTHIA turned a flushed and tear-stained 
face toward Eleanor, as the latter entered 
the boudoir and approached her couch. 
“Is it all over?” she asked, choking back a sob. 
“Yes.” Eleanor lifted her black crepe veil, and, 
pulling out the hatpins, removed her hat and handed 
it to Annette, who had followed her into the room. 
“Take my coat, too, Annette,” she directed, “then 
you need not wait.” As the servant left the room 
she pulled a low rocking-chair up to the couch on 
which Cynthia was lying, and placed her hand gently 
on the weeping girl’s shoulder. “Are you feeling 
better, dear?” 

“A little better.” Cynthia wiped her eyes with 
a dry handkerchief which Annette had placed on 
her couch some moments before. “Oh, Eleanor, I 
am so bitterly ashamed of the scene I made down- 
stairs.” 

“You need not be.” Eleanor stroked the curly, 
107 


THE MAN INSIDE 


fair hair back from Cynthia’s hot forehead with 
loving fingers. “It was a very painful scene, and 
Dr. Wallace’s tribute to Senator Carew, while beau- 
tiful, was harrowing. I am not surprised you 
fainted, dear.” 

“Aunt Charlotte didn’t, and she was so devoted 
to Uncle James.” 

“Mrs. Winthrop had not been through your ter- 
rible experiences of Monday night. Consequently, 
she had the strength to bear to-day’s ordeal with 
outward composure.” 

“Was it very dreadful at the cemetery?” 

“No, dear. The services at the grave were very 
simple, and, as the funeral was private, it attracted 
no morbid spectators.” 

“Did anyone accompany you?” 

“Just the handful of people who were here for 
the house services.” 

“Where is Aunt Charlotte?” 

“She went to her room to lie down.” 

Cynthia raised herself on her elbow and glanced 
searchingly about the pretty sitting-room filled with 
its bird’s-eye maple furniture. The yellow wall- 
paper, with its wide border of pink roses, chintz cur- 
tains and hangings, cast a soft yellow glow, which 
was exceedingly becoming, as well as restful to the 
108 


OVER THE TEA CUPS 


eye. The afternoon sunshine came through the long 
French windows which overlooked a broad alley. 

“Eleanor, would you mind closing the door of my' 
bedroom,” she asked, “and please first see that — 
that Blanche isn’t sitting there sewing.” 

Eleanor glanced curiously at Cynthia as she rose, 
crossed to the adjoining bedroom, and softly closed 
the door. “There is no one in your room,” she re- 
ported, on her return to her rocking-chair. 

Cynthia settled back among her pillows with an 
air of satisfaction. “At last I have you to myself. 
First the trained nurse, whom I didn’t need, and then 
Aunt Charlotte, have always been hanging around, 
and I haven’t had a chance to ask you any ques- 
tions.” 

“What is it you wish to know?” 

“Was there — was there — an autopsy?” Noting 
Eleanor’s expression, she exclaimed hastily: “Now, 
Eleanor dear, don’t say I must not talk of Uncle 
James’ death. The nurse wouldn’t answer me when 
I spoke on the subject; said I must not think of the 
tragedy, that it was bad for me. Such nonsense ! I 
would have asked Aunt Charlotte, but she’s been 
so queer lately, not in the least like her own dear 
self.” 

“Mrs. Winthrop is living under such great strain 
109 


THE MAN INSIDE 


these days, Cynthia, it’s not surprising. Her 
brother dead — Philip very ill ” 

“They told me he was better,” hastily jerked out 
Cynthia, with a startled look in her big, brown eyes. 

“He is, now,” Eleanor hesitated. “The doctor 
at first thought he might develop brain fever, but I 
am told all danger of that is past.” 

“What is the matter with him?” persisted Cyn- 
thia. “I asked the nurse what the trouble was, but 
she never told me. Was his attack also caused by 
the shock of Uncle James’ death?” 

“Yes, from shock,” answered Eleanor, mechan- 
ically. “You must not blame your aunt if her man- 
ner is distrait; she is a very reserved woman and 
dreads, above all things, letting herself go and 
breaking down.” 

“Oh, I hope she will keep well, she has been so 
unhappy. I can’t bear to think of her suffering 
more, but,” she laid her hand pleadingly on 
Eleanor’s arm, “you haven’t answered my question 
about the autopsy.” 

“Yes, they held one.” 

“And what was discovered?” eagerly. 

“That Senator Carew was perfectly well phys- 
ically, and that his death was caused by a stab from 
the sharp-pointed letter file.” 


no 


OVER THE TEA CUPS 


Cynthia suddenly covered her eyes with her hand, 
and lay for some minutes without speaking. “Is 
Hamilton still in jail?” she questioned finally. 

“Yes, he is being held for the inquest.” 

“Inquest?” Cynthia glanced up, startled. “I 
thought the inquest was over.” 

“No, it hasn’t been held yet.” 

“But Uncle James was buried to-day.” 

“The funeral could not be postponed, Cynthia. 
The doctors who performed the autopsy will testify 
at the inquest.” 

“But I thought it was always necessary to hold 
the inquest after a violent death.” 

“It is usually, but in this case the inquest was 
postponed because you and Philip, two of the most 
important witnesses, were too ill to attend it.” 

Cynthia closed and unclosed her tapering fingers 
over her handkerchief spasmodically. “Are the de- 
tectives still hanging around the house?” she in- 
quired. 

“Yes.” 

“It’s shameful!” announced Cynthia, sitting up- 
right, “to allow those men to intrude on our grief 
and privacy. They have arrested Hamilton for the 
crime, and should leave us alone.” 

“They do not think Hamilton guilty.” 


hi 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“Whom — whom — do they suspect ?” The ques- 
tion seemed forced from her. 

“Mr. Brett hasn’t confided in me.” 

“Mr. Brett?” 

“He’s the detective in charge of the case.” 

“Oh, is he the tall, fine-looking man I saw talking 
to Joshua in the hall yesterday morning?” 

“No, that was probably Douglas Hunter.” 

“Douglas Hunter? Not the Douglas Hunter of 
the Diplomatic Corps, whom Uncle James was for- 
ever talking about?” 

“The same. Do you know him?” 

“No, he has always been absent from Washington 
when I’ve been in the city. What is he doing here 
now?” 

“Trying to help Mr. Brett solve the mystery of 
Senator Carew’s death.” 

“Good Heavens ! What earthly business is it of 
his?” 

“Don’t ask me,” Eleanor’s usually tranquil voice 
was a trifle sharp. “I suppose he is hoping to win 
the reward offered by Mrs. Winthrop.” 

“Reward?” Cynthia’s voice rose, and drowned the 
sound of a faint knock at the hall door. 

“Yes. Your aunt announced that she would give 
five thousand dollars to anyone who could solve the 


1 1 2 


OVER THE TEA CUPS 


mystery.” Cynthia was listening with absorbed at- 
tention to Eleanor, and neither noticed that the hall 
door was pushed open a few inches, then softly 
closed. “Uncle Dana told her that was too much to 
offer, and she reduced the sum to one thousand dol- 
lars, with the proviso that it should be increased if 
the first offer brought no result.” 

Cynthia sighed deeply. “Why, why did she do 
it?” she cried passionately. “She must be mad!” 

Eleanor glanced at her companion in astonish- 
ment. “Cynthia, you must not excite yourself,” she 
remonstrated firmly. “Otherwise, I shall leave 
you.” 

Cynthia reached out and clutched her arm. 

“Don’t go,” she entreated. “I must ” her words 

were interrupted by a sharp rap on the hall door. 
“Come in.” 

In response Annette opened the door. “Pardon, 
Mademoiselle, but it is five o’clock, and I thought 
you might like your tea up here instead of down- 
stairs.” 

“Capital, Annette,” exclaimed Eleanor, as the 
maid entered carrying a tray. “Wait a moment, 
and I will get that small table.” Deftly she re- 
moved the books and magazines, and then carried 
the table over to the couch. Annette put a tray 


THE MAN INSIDE 


laden with tempting sandwiches, small cakes, the 
teapot and its accessories, on the table, then bent 
over and arranged Cynthia’s pillows at her back 
with practiced hand. 

“Mademoiselle is more comfortable, n’est ce 
fas?” she asked briskly. 

“Yes, indeed, Annette,” Cynthia nodded grate- 
fully at the Frenchwoman. 

“Have you everything you wish, Mademoiselle 
Eleanor?” 

“Yes, Annette, thank you. If I want anything 
more I will ring.” 

“Be sure and close the door, Annette,” directed 
Cynthia, “I am afraid of a draft”; and she looked 
around until she saw her order obeyed. 

“Have a sandwich?” asked Eleanor, handing the 
dish and a plate to Cynthia. 

“I’d rather eat good sandwiches than solid food,” 
announced Cynthia, after a pause, helping herself 
to another portion. 

“Solid?” echoed Eleanor. “I call pate de foie 
gras and deviled ham pretty solid eating, Cynthia; 
especially when taken in bulk,” glancing quizzically 
at the rapidly diminishing pile. 

“Don’t begrudge me these crumbs.” Cynthia’s 
smile was followed by a sigh. “I’ve lived on slops 
114 


OVER THE TEA CUPS 


for three days. Why are you giving me such weak 
tea, Eleanor? I loathe it made that way.” 

“I am afraid to make it stronger, Cynthia, it will 
keep you awake.” 

“ I don’t want to sleep; I’d give anything not to 
sleep !” 

“Why, Cynthia!” 

“If I could really sleep — drop into oblivion — I 
would like it, but instead I dream, and, oh, God! 
I fear my dream.” 

Eleanor laid a restraining hand on her shoulder. 
“Lie down,” she commanded, “and compose your- 
self.” 

Cynthia lay back on her pillows, panting a little 
from her exertion, the color coming and going in 
her winsome face. 

“I would give anything, Eleanor, if I had your 
tranquil disposition,” she said, more quietly. “I 
cannot help my temperament. My mother was 
Scotch to the fingertips, and, I have been told, had 
the gift of second-sight — although I sometimes 
doubt if such a thing is a gift.” 

“Perhaps I can understand better than you think,” 
said Eleanor gently. “My mother was Irish, and 
the Irish, you know, are just as great believers in 
the supernatural as the Scotch.” 

ii5 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“You always understand,” Cynthia bent forward 
and kissed her friend warmly. “That’s why you are 
such a comfort. Let me tell you why I am so ner- 
vous and unstrung. Since a little child I have been 
obsessed by one dream, it is always the same, and 
always precedes disaster.” She sighed, drearily. “I 
had it just before my grandmother’s death; then be- 
fore my uncle, Mr. Winthrop, killed himself; and 
on Sunday night I had it again.” She shuddered as 
she spoke. 

“What is your dream?” 

“It is this way: I may be sleeping soundly, when 
suddenly I see a door — a door which stands out 
vividly in a shadowy space, which might be a room, 
or hallway — the door is white and the panels are in 
the shape of a cross, so” — illustrating her meaning 
with her arms — “I hear a cry — the cry of a soul in 
torment — I rush to the rescue, always to find the 
door locked, and wake myself beating on the empty 
air” — she shuddered as she spoke, and drew her 
kimono closer about her. “I awake cold and trem- 
bling from head to foot.” 

“You poor darling,” Eleanor took the limp form 
in her arms with a gesture of infinite understanding 
and compassion. 

“I had the dream Sunday night,” sobbed Cynthia, 
ii 6 


OVER THE TEA CUPS 


“then Monday, when I thought we could announce 
our engagement ” 

“Whose engagement ?” asked a quiet voice behind 
the pair. Startled, Eleanor wheeled around to find 
Mrs. Winthrop standing behind her, as Cynthia 
slipped from her arms and buried her head in the 
friendly cushions, her slender form shaking with 
convulsive sobs. 


CHAPTER XII 


A COUNCIL OF WAR 

P HILIP WINTHROP moved restlessly in 
bed, then lay still, for a feeling of deadly 
nausea almost overcame him. Half an hour 
passed, and, feeling better, he raised his hand and 
felt his throbbing temples. Wearily he tried to col- 
lect his ideas, but all appeared confused. 

What was it that he had promised? Slowly his 
torpid conscience awoke. “For value received” — 
the phrase held a double meaning which penetrated 
even his dulled senses. He could not afford to lie 
there like a bump on a log any longer. He opened 
his eyes ; apparently it was late, for the room was in 
total darkness, save for a streak of light which 
came from the half-open hall door. 

With an effort Philip raised himself on his elbow 
and glanced about him, but even that slight exertion 
was too much in his weakened state, and, with a 
groan, he slid back on the pillows. For some sec- 
onds he lay without moving, but the yellow patch of 
118 


A COUNCIL OF WAR 


light troubled him, and he rolled over on his side 
facing the wall. He struggled apathetically to piece 
together the occurrences of the past few days. Sud- 
denly he caught the sound of a light step and the 
swish of skirts approaching his b£d. 

The next instant a glass was thrust under his 
nose and placed gently against his mouth. He 
raised his hand and pushed the glass away from 
him. “G’way,” he stammered faintly; “leave me 
’lone.” 

Apparently no attention was paid to his request, 
for the glass was again placed at his lips. Again 
he tried to thrust it from him, but his feeble efforts 
made no impression against the strong wrist. His 
resistance only lasted a few minutes, then his weaker 
will surrendered to the stronger, and he sipped the 
medicine obediently, after which the glass was with- 
drawn. 

Downstairs in the library three men sat smoking 
around the large desk table. 

“I am glad you could join us to-night, Colonel 
Thornton,” said Brett, as he placed one of the ash- 
trays conveniently near the lawyer. “Three heads 
are better than one, and it is time we got together 
and discussed certain features of this case.” 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“Quite right, it will help us to a clearer under- 
standing, M agreed the Colonel. 

“Then suppose, Mr. Hunter, that you first tell 
us any theories which you may have formed.” 

Douglas dropped the paper-cutter he was bal- 
ancing in his hand, and, leaning on the table, looked 
seriously at his companions. “I think,” he said de- 
liberately, “that Philip Winthrop has a guilty knowl- 
edge of Senator Carew’s death, if he is not the actual 
murderer.” 

“Your reasons,” demanded Colonel Thornton. 

“There was bad blood between them, that has 
been proved,” Douglas picked his words with care. 
“Possibly the quarrel was brought about because 
Senator Carew had found out something discredit- 
able in Philip Winthrop’s past. He had a respon- 
sible position as the Senator’s private secretary, and 
there is a chance he betrayed his trust.” 

“In what way?” asked Brett eagerly. 

“It may be that he is in the pay of some lobby 
anxious to influence important legislation.” Doug- 
las, mindful of the Secretary of State’s caution, was 
feeling his way with care. 

“Senator Carew was the last man to be influenced 
by such a character as Philip Winthrop,” said 
Thornton contemptuously. 


120 


A COUNCIL OF WAR 


“He may not have tried to do so, but simply 
have betrayed valuable information of committee 
plans and caucus.” 

“That may be,” acknowledged Thornton, “par- 
ticularly as I am told that Philip has been spending 
a great deal of money lately; far more than his 
salary would warrant.” 

“ ‘Value received.’ ” Douglas shrugged his shoul- 
ders expressively. “I have also found out that 
Hamilton, the coachman, is a Jamaican negro, his 
real name being Samuel Hamilton Quesada, and 
that he was brought here nearly two years ago by 
young Winthrop when he returned from a visit to 
Jamaica. The Senator took him into his employ at 
the former’s request and recommendation.” 

“And your theory is?” questioned Brett sharply, 
laying down his cigar. 

“That Winthrop either bribed Hamilton to kill 
Senator Carew, or to help him after he, Winthrop, 
had committed the murder. You must remember,” 
he added hastily, as Brett started to speak, “the 
Jamaican negro has a revengeful disposition when 
roused, and I have no doubt Senator Carew gave 
him merry hell when he discharged him Monday 
afternoon, and Hamilton was ready to risk every- 
thing to get even.” 


1 2 1 


THE MAN INSIDE 


Brett shook his head. “How did Senator Carew 
get into that carriage?’’ he asked doubtfully. 

“Hamilton probably lied when he said he did not 
first stop at this house on his way to the ball to 
bring Miss Carew home. Or perhaps Winthrop 
came into this room, found Senator Carew busy 
writing, stole up behind him, seized the letter file 
and stabbed him with it.” 

Again Brett shook his head. “If that had been 
the case, the Senator would have been stabbed in 
the" back; whereas he was stabbed directly over the 
heart, and whoever committed the crime was facing 
him.” 

“Well, that is not impossible,” argued Douglas. 
“Winthrop may have stood near the Senator’s chair 
and talked to him for a few minutes without the 
latter suspecting danger, may have even picked up 
the letter file, a harmless thing to do under ordinary 
circumstances, and, without warning, thrust it into 
the Senator’s chest.” 

“And afterward?” questioned Brett. 

“Afterward — Winthrop may have stepped into 
the hall, found no one there, tip-toed into the room 
again, telephoned” — pointing to the desk instrument 
— “out to the stable and told Hamilton to drive at 
once to the front door. The sound of the horses’ 


122 


A COUNCIL OF WAR 


hoofs was probably drowned by the heavy rain, 
so no one in the house would have heard the car- 
riage enter the port-cochere, but” — impressively — 
“Winthrop, from this window, could see its arrival. 
He probably stepped into the hall again, found the 
coast clear, opened the front door, dashed back, 
picked up Senator Carew, who was much smaller 
than he, carried him out and placed him inside the 
carriage. Hamilton had been drinking, and was 
perhaps too befogged to notice anything unusual, 
and, when Winthrop slammed the carriage door, he 
probably drove off none the wiser.” 

“As much as I dislike Philip Winthrop I do not 
think him capable of committing murder,” said 
Colonel Thornton, slowly. “Secondly, I believe, no 
matter how secretly you think the murder was 
planned, that, if Philip were guilty, Mrs. Winthrop 
would have some inkling of it, and if their quarrel 
was so serious she would have known it, and would 

4k 

naturally try to hush matters up. Instead of which, 
she is the first to offer a reward, a large reward, 
mind you. It is not within reason that she would 
have done such a thing had she the faintest idea that 
Philip was the murderer.” 

“I beg your pardon, Philip is not her son. There 
may be no love lost between them.” 

123 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“Good God! what a suggestion. You don’t mean 
to insinuate that she offered that reward knowing 
her stepson might be guilty.” Thornton looked at 
Douglas with sudden horror. 

For reply Douglas nodded quietly. 

“No, no, Douglas, you are shinning up the wrong 
tree. I have known Mrs. Winthrop for over fifteen 
years; she wouldn’t injure a fly, let alone try to trap 
one whom she loves as her own flesh and blood. 
She was devoted to her husband, and for his sake 
legally adopted Philip and brought him up as her 
own son; in fact, she was entirely too indulgent and 
generous, which has proved his downfall. He hates 
work like a nigger.” 

“Mr. Hunter has drawn a strong case against 
Philip Winthrop, except for one serious flaw,” broke 
in Brett, who had been a silent listener to their argu- 
ment. “And that is that Philip Winthrop was at 
the Alibi Club on Monday evening. A number of 
reputable men are willing to swear to that. It is 
certain that he could not have been in two places at 
once. Secondly, Mrs. Winthrop swears that her 
brother spent Monday evening away from this 
house.” Brett leaned forward and spoke impres- 
sively, “Senator Carew was killed by another hand 
than Philip Winthrop’s.” 


124 


A COUNCIL OF WAR 


“By whose hand?” asked Thornton and Douglas 
simultaneously. 

“Captain Frederick Lane.” 

“Fred Lane, of the Engineer Corps?” ejaculated 
Thornton, much astonished, while Douglas looked 
as blank as he felt. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Bah ! you’re mad.” 

“Just a moment,” Brett held up a protesting hand. 
“Don’t condemn my theory unheard. I seemed up 
against a blank wall in this house, so to-day I started 
an investigation at the other end; that is, at the 
residence of Mr. and Mrs. James Owen, where Miss 
Cynthia Carew attended a dance on Monday night.” 

“Go on,” urged Douglas, as Brett stopped and 
glanced behind him to see that the hall door was 
closed. 

“I called on Mrs. Owen. She was not inclined to 
be communicative, but her daughter, Miss Alice 
Owen, who came in during our interview, let the cat 
out of the bag, and Mrs. Owen had to tell then 
what she knew, which was this : that Captain Lane 

and Miss Carew were engaged ” a muttered 

word escaped Colonel Thornton, and Brett turned 
to him instantly, “I beg pardon, did you speak?” 

“No,” growled the Colonel. 

125 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“Apparently they had planned to announce the 
engagement at the dance,” resumed Brett. “Any- 
way, Miss Owen, who already knew of it, was told 
by Miss Carew that her uncle, the Senator, refused 
to give his consent, and had threatened to turn her 
out of doors if she did not instantly break the en- 
gagement.” 

“Poor Cynthia, poor little girl,” murmured 
Thornton, “I am very fond of her, and her father 
was my most intimate friend. It was beastly of 
Carew to issue such an ultimatum. She is entirely 
dependent upon him.” 

“So Miss Owen thought. Miss Carew confided 
her troubles to her on her arrival. Miss Owen said 
that while they were sitting in the library Captain 
Lane came in looking very dejected, and she imme- 
diately got up to leave the lovers together. Before 
leaving the room, however, she overheard Lane tell 
Miss Carew that he had just seen her uncle, hoping 
to persuade him to reconsider his refusal, but that he 
flatly refused to do so in the most insulting terms.” 

“Upon my word, for a mild-tempered man, Carew 
managed to have plenty of quarrels on his hands on 
Monday,” exclaimed Thornton. 

“And the last one undoubtedly brought about his 
death”; Brett spoke so positively that Douglas 
126 


A COUNCIL OF WAR 


hitched his chair nearer in his excitement. “After I 
had finished my interview with Mrs. Owen I asked 
permission to question* her servants. The footman 
told me that Miss Carew left the dance earlier than 
the other guests, and that she had to wait a long 
time for her carriage. He said he called her car- 
riage check number repeatedly, and with no result. 
That Captain Lane, becoming impatient, put on his 
overcoat and hat and walked down the street search- 
ing for Miss Carew’s carriage.” 

“And you think?” broke in Douglas. 

“That Captain Lane not only found the carriage 
but the Senator sitting in it, and seized the oppor- 
tunity to punish him for his deviltry to the girl he 
loved.” 

A long pause followed as Colonel Thornton and 
Douglas sat thinking over Brett’s startling news. 

“Where did he get the weapon?” inquired Doug- 
las finally. 

“Out of Mrs. Owen’s library, of course. He may 
have picked it up in a fit of absent-mindedness and 
carried it with him.” 

“Did the footman or butler notice anything in his 
hand when he left the house?” questioned Thornton. 

“I asked them, and they declared that he carried 
an umbrella in his left hand, and that they had not 
127 


THE MAN INSIDE 


noticed whether he was holding anything in his right 
hand or not. The footman declared that it was 
raining so hard that it was impossible to see any- 
thing clearly. They both said Captain Lane was 
some fifteen minutes returning to the house.” 

“Did he find the carriage?” 

“He told the footman that he hadn’t, and ordered 
him to keep calling the number, which he did, and 
soon after the carriage drove up.” 

“Of all the cold-blooded propositions !” ejaculated 
Douglas. “Do you honestly mean that you think 
Lane deliberately put the girl he loved into the car- 
riage to sit beside the man he had just murdered?” 

“I do,” firmly, “and I stake my reputation as a 
detective that Captain Lane is guilty. You were 
with me, Mr. Hunter, when I overheard Miss 
Carew exclaim, as Miss Thornton entered her bed- 
room on Tuesday — ‘They quarreled, Eleanor, they 
quarreled.’ ” 

“She may not have been alluding to Captain 
Lane,” declared Douglas stoutly; “she may have 
referred to Philip Winthrop. He also quarreled 
with Senator Carew.” 

“Philip is very much in love with Cynthia and 
wishes to marry her,” volunteered Thornton quietly. 

“Is that why Senator Carew objected to her en- 
128 


A COUNCIL OF WAR 


gagement to Captain Lane?” asked Brett. “Did he 
wish her to marry Philip Winthrop?” 

“I never heard that he did”; Thornton paused 
and reflected a moment. “I might as well tell you, 
for you will probably hear it from some one else 
eventually, that there has been a feud of long stand- 
ing between the Lanes and Carews.” 

Douglas whistled. “A Montague and Capulet 
affair?” he inquired. 

“Exactly. Carew and old Governor Lane were 
political rivals. Lord! how they hated each other! 
They almost tore Maryland asunder when running 
for the governorship, which Lane won by a few 
votes. Carew charged fraud, which, however, was 
never proved. They cherished their animosity to 
the day of Governor Lane’s death, and I can imagine 
it was a terrible shock to Carew to find that his 
dearly loved niece wanted to marry the Governor’s 
son.” 

“What sort of a fellow is Lane?” asked Douglas. 

“A fine specimen of the American gentleman,” 
exclaimed Thornton enthusiastically, “a soldier, 
every inch of him, brave to a fault; he has twice 
been mentioned in orders for gallant conduct — just 
the sort of a fellow a romantic young girl like Cyn- 
thia would fall head over heels in love with.” 

129 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“In naming his virtues you have overlooked his 
greatest fault,” said Brett calmly. “He has a 
fiendish temper, and, when provoked, falls into the 
most insane rages, so his brother officers tell me.” 

“You are making out a black case against him,” 
agreed Douglas, “but there is one point you seem 
to have overlooked, and that is, did the letter file 
used to kill Senator Carew belong to Mrs. Owen?” 

“That is the one flaw in my case,” acknowledged 
Brett regretfully. “She declines to answer the 
question.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


AT THE WHITE HOUSE 

T HERE’S a note done cum fo’ yo’, suh,” 
announced the elevator boy lounging 
in the doorway of the Albany as 
Douglas stepped inside the entrance of the apart- 
ment hotel. “I’ll get it,” and visions of a tip caused 
the mulatto to hasten his leisurely footsteps to the 
small office to the left of the entrance. In a few 
seconds he was back at the elevator shaft, where 
Douglas stood waiting, and handed him a square 
envelope stamped with the words “State Depart- 
ment” in the left-hand corner. “Wanter go to yer 
room, suh,” slipping the expected coin in his trousers’ 
pocket. 

“Yes.” The door slammed shut, and the elevator 
shot upward. “Anyone been to see me or tele- 
phoned, Jonas?” 

“No, suh.” The mulatto brought the cage to a 
standstill at the third floor, and Douglas stepped out 
and hastened to his tiny apartment. Throwing his 

131 


f 


THE MAN INSIDE 


hat and cane on the bed, he drew a chair to the open 
window, having first made sure, with a caution 
which had grown upon him, that the hall door was 
securely locked, and that the chambermaid was not 
loitering in the vicinity. As he opened the note an 
enclosure fell into his lap, and, without looking at 
it, he perused the few written lines. It was from 
the Secretary of State. 

Dear Mr. Hunter: [he read] So far, no fur- 
ther developments. When people are at play they 
are usually “off guard.” I enclose an invitation to 
the garden party at the White House this afternoon, 
for which I asked. The Diplomatic Corps will at- 
tend in a body. I hope to see you there. 

Very truly yours 

Douglas picked up the enclosed envelope with the 
words “The White House” stamped in small gold 
letters in the upper left-hand corner, and pulled out 
the engraved card. The gold eagle crest at the top 
of the invitation was almost stared out of coun- 
tenance, so long and so steadily did he regard it, as 
he slowly weighed in his mind the events of the past 
three days. 

If- the desk file used to kill the Senator did belong 
to Mrs. Owen, then Brett had woven strong circum- 
stantial evidence around Captain Lane. Was it pos- 

132 


AT THE WHITE HOUSE 


sible that the young officer, incensed at Senator 
Carew’s threat to turn his niece, Cynthia, out of 
doors, and goaded past endurance by a possible 
tongue lashing at their last interview, had seized the 
opportunity offered by chance and killed Carew, an 
hereditary enemy? From time immemorial family 
feuds had, alas, often led to murder. 

If so, what, then, became of his own theory of 
an international intrigue? Were Senator Carew’s 
interest in things Japanese, his desire to see Doug- 
las, the information gleaned by the latter in Japan, 
the untimely death of the Senator, and last — the 
theft of the plans of the new battleships — were 
these simply coincidences? 

Douglas roused himself and glanced at the hour 
mentioned in the invitation — five o’clock. Jerking 
out his watch he found he had but half an hour in 
which to change his clothes before he was due at the 
White House. 

Shortly afterward Douglas walked through 
Lafayette Square on his way to the eastern entrance 
of the White House. A long queue of smart turn- 
outs and motors stretched along Pennsylvania 
Avenue from Seventeenth Street to Executive 
Avenue, as the short street between the Treas- 
133 


THE MAN INSIDE 


ury Department and the White House is called. 

The policeman on special duty scrutinized his 
card of admission carefully before allowing him to 
pass down the corridor and out into the garden. 

The President and his wife were receiving on the 
lawn under a huge blossoming chestnut tree near 
the south portico. As Douglas waited in line to 
approach the President, he glanced about him with 
great interest. He had been to many brilliant func- 
tions in other countries, but he decided in his own 
mind that he had seldom seen a more beautiful set- 
ting for an entertainment than that afforded by the 
stately mansion and its surrounding gardens. The 
lovely rolling grounds, with their natural beauty, 
and the towering white shaft of the Washington 
Monument in the background, made a picture not 
easily forgotten. 

The full dress uniforms of the military and naval 
aides on duty added to the brilliancy of the scene. 
The Marine Band, their scarlet coats making a vivid 
touch of color against the huge fountain with its 
myriad sprays of water, were stationed on a raised 
platform far down the lawn. The southern breeze 
carried the stirring airs they were playing to Doug- 
las’ ears and sent the hot blood dancing in his veins. 
Or was it the sight of Eleanor Thornton, looking 
134 


AT THE WHITE HOUSE 


radiantly beautiful, which set his heart throbbing in 
a most unusual manner? Some telepathy seemed to 
tell her of his presence, for she looked around, 
caught his eye, and bowed. 

He had kept moving as the guests ahead of him 
advanced, and the next moment he was being pre- 
sented to the President by the military aide stationed 
in attendance at the latter’s elbow. He had but 
time to receive a hearty handshake and a cordial 
word of welcome from the President and the “first 
lady of the land,” for the other guests were waiting 
impatiently to greet them, and he could not loiter. 

“Douglas Hunter ! as I’m a sinner !” A hearty slap 
on the shoulder emphasized the words, and Douglas 
wheeled around and found Captain Chisholm, of the 
British Royal Artillery, addressing him. “The idea 
of your being here and not letting me know, old 
chap,” he added reproachfully, as they shook hands. 

“I didn’t know you were in town,” declared 
Douglas. “Thought you were still in Paris.” 

“I was transferred to the embassy in Washington 
three months ago. Upon my word, Douglas, I took 
you for a ghost when I first saw you. I was under 
the impression that you were stationed at Tokio.” 

“So I am; I am only here on leave of absence.” 
The Englishman’s eyebrows went up. “I had to at- 
135 


THE MAN INSIDE 


tend to some Washington property, which has been 
recently left me. This is my native heath, you 
know.” 

“I wasn’t aware of it,” dryly; “but then, Douglas, 
you are perpetually springing surprises, like your 
nation, on us benighted foreigners.” 

“Anything to drink around here?” inquired Doug- 
las. “I am as thirsty as a herring.” 

“There is some excellent champagne punch, come 
along,” and the tall Englishman led the way to a 
long table placed under the trees near the tennis 
courts, where refreshments were being served. 
They corraled a colored waiter, and soon were sip- 
ping iced punch as they stood at some distance from 
the crowd about the table and watched the animated 
scene. 

“I didn’t want to come to Washington,” acknowl- 
edged Chisholm, after a moment’s silence, “but 
now, I’d hate to leave it. The people are delightful, 
and I have never met with such genuine hospitality.” 

“You are right; Washington people never forget 
you. Go away for ten years, and on your return 
you will be greeted just as warmly as to-day.” 

“Don’t talk of going away, I’ve only just come,” 
laughed Chisholm. “ ’Pon my word, Douglas, this 
seems like old times. I can almost imagine myself 

136 


AT THE WHITE HOUSE 


back in Paris, the chestnut trees in blossom, which 
remind me of the Parc Monceau, help the illusion. 
And there’s another illusion” — nodding his head 
toward Eleanor Thornton, who stood at some dis- 
tance talking to two staff officers — “or, I should say, 
a delusion.” He smiled gayly, but there was no an- 
swering smile on Douglas’ face. Not noticing his 
companion’s silence, the Englishman added, “Is she 
still hunting around looking up old files and 
records?” 

Douglas started as if stung. “I don’t know,” 
shortly. 

“A dangerous habit,” commented Chisholm 
calmly. “If Miss Thornton had not left Paris and 
gone to Berlin when she did, her interest in govern- 
ment affairs might have led to serious trouble — for 
her.” 

“Now, what the devil do you mean?” demanded 
Douglas hotly. 

Chisholm turned and regarded him steadily for 
a second, then his monocle slipped down and dan- 
gled from its silken cord. “There, there,” he ex- 
claimed soothingly. “Don’t get your rag up, I was 
only spoofing.” 

“You have very rudimentary ideas of humor,” 
growled Douglas, still incensed. In his heart he 
137 


THE MAN INSIDE 


knew the Englishman was right; Eleanor Thornton 
was an enigma. Dare he penetrate the mystery, or 
was he afraid to face the issue? 

Chisholm laughed good-naturedly. “Miss Thorn- 
ton is looking at you, Douglas; don’t let me detain 
you. I’ll see you again before I leave here.” 

Douglas hesitated. “I’ll be back soon, Chis- 
holm,” he said and walked across the lawn to join 
Eleanor. 

The Englishman looked after him with specu- 
lative eyes. “Still touched in that quarter,” he mut- 
tered, twirling his blond mustache in his fingers. 
“Too bad, Douglas is such a bully good chap, and 

she ” he was not allowed to indulge in more 

reflections, as he was seized upon by a bevy of pretty 
girls and forced to dance attendance upon them for 
the remainder of the afternoon. 

Recollections of his last interview with Eleanor 
troubled Douglas. How would she greet him? His 
doubts were soon put at rest, for at his approach 
Eleanor put out her hand and greeted him warmly. 
The two staff officers, who were introduced to Doug- 
las, saw they were de trop, and, after a few minutes, 
made their excuses and departed. 

“Will you have an ice or sandwich?” inquired 
Douglas. 


138 


AT THE WHITE HOUSE 


“Neither, thanks; I have already been helped.” 

“Then suppose we stroll down to the fountain. 
We can’t hear the Marine Band with all this chat- 
ter,” and he glanced disgustedly at the joyous crowd 
about them. 

Eleanor laughed. “Don’t be hard on your fellow 
creatures, if you are out of sorts.” 

“What makes you think that?” 

“You looked so cross when talking to Captain 
Chisholm. I am sorry you found your topic of con- 
versation so boring.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You both glanced so frequently at me that I nat- 
urally concluded I was under discussion.” 

“On the contrary, we were discussing — masked 
batteries.” She scanned him covertly, but could get 
no inkling of his thoughts from his blank expression. 
“Captain Chisholm has a fatal habit of talking shop 
whenever he gets a chance. Isn’t that Colonel 
Thornton beckoning to us over there?” 

“Why, so it is. Shall we walk over and join 
him?” She paused to exchange a few words of greet- 
ing with several friends, then turned back to Doug- 
las smilingly: “Come,” and he suited his steps to 
hers as they started across the lawn. “How long 
will you remain in Washington, Mr. Hunter?” 

139 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“Until the sale of some property of mine is com- 
pleted,” briefly. “I asked for you this morning, 
Miss Thornton, thinking you might care to go for a 
motor ride, but they told me that you were lying 
down and could not be disturbed.” 

“They? Who?” swiftly. “This is the first I have 
heard of your call.” 

“Indeed? Why, I spoke to Annette when I 
reached the Carew residence this morning.” 

“Annette!” in growing astonishment, “ Annette 
told you I was indisposed and could not be dis- 
turbed?” 

“Yes. My cousin had loaned me his car for the 
morning, and I thought it just possible that a run 
in the fresh air might set you up after the funeral 
yesterday.” 

“It was good of you to think of me, Mr. Hunter.” 
She raised her eyes in time to see the Secretary of 
State regarding her intently as they strolled past 
him. He lifted his hat courteously and returned 
their words of greeting, but his face was grave as he 
paused and watched them moving through the 
throng. “I am sorry about this morning,” continued 
Eleanor, “Annette and I will have a reckoning when 
we reach home.” 

“Would you have gone with me?” eagerly. 

140 


AT THE WHITE HOUSE 


“Yes.” Douglas bent to catch the monosyllable. 
Her foot turned on the uneven ground and he put 
his hand on her arm to steady her. As his fingers 
closed over her soft, rounded arm, he instinctively 
drew her closer. The warmth of her skin through 
her glove thrilled him. 

“I hope you will ask me again,” she said. 

“To-morrow — will you go with me to-morrow?” 
insistently. 

“Yes.” She met his eyes for a second, then 
glanced away, while a hot blush mantled her cheeks. 
“Provided, of course, that Cynthia Carew does not 
need me.” Then in a louder tone, “Well, Uncle 
Dana, how are you?” 

“Feeling splendidly. No need to ask about you 
and Douglas” — he smiled quizzically. “I am glad 
that you could come here to-day, Eleanor.” 

“I did not wish to, but Cousin Kate Truxton in- 
sisted that I had to bring her here. She declared 
that she would not come otherwise, and made such a 
point of it that I could not refuse, particularly as 
Mrs. Winthrop and Cynthia would not hear of my 
remaining with them.” 

“I have just come from there,” responded 
Colonel Thornton; “Cynthia came into the library 
while I was talking to Mrs. Winthrop, and I was 
141 


THE MAN INSIDE 


shocked by her appearance. The child has wasted 
away.” 

“Is it not pitiful ?” exclaimed Eleanor. “It nearly 
breaks my heart to see her suffering. She neither 
eats nor sleeps.” 

“Can’t you give her an opiate?” asked Douglas. 

“She declines to take one.” 

“Can’t you administer it surreptitiously?” 

“I have a better plan than that,” broke in Colonel 
Thornton. “The child needs a change of ideas. 
The atmosphere of the house is enough to get on 
anyone’s nerves, particularly with that dipsomaniac, 
Philip, raising Cain at unexpected moments.” 

“What’s your plan, Uncle Dana?” 

“That you bring Cynthia over to my house to- 
morrow to spend Sunday. You come, too, Douglas. 
Cynthia hasn’t met you, and she won’t connect you 
with any of the tragic occurrences of the past week.” 
Then, as he saw the look of doubt on Eleanor’s face, 
he added, “Human nature can stand just so much of 
nervous strain and no more. Cynthia must have re- 
laxation and diversion.” 

“But I don’t think Mrs. Winthrop will approve 
of her going out so soon after the funeral,” objected 
Eleanor doubtfully. 

“Bah! That nonsense belongs to the dark ages. 

142 


AT THE WHITE HOUSE 


What good will Cynthia’s staying in that gloomy 
house do poor Carew? I’ll drop in to-morrow 
morning and see Mrs. Winthrop; leave the matter 
to me, Eleanor. There is no earthly reason why 
she should object. I’ll ask Cousin Kate Truxton 
also.” 

“Cousin Kate!” echoed Eleanor, her conscience 
smiting her. “Where has she gone?” 

“I left her talking with Senator Jenkins some 
time ago.” The Colonel glanced behind him. 
“Speaking of angels, here she comes now.” 

Mrs. Truxton was walking leisurely in their di- 
rection. Seeing that they had observed her, she 
waved her parasol and hastened her footsteps. 

“Cousin Kate, I think you already know Mr. 
Hunter,” said Eleanor, as the older woman reached 
her side. 

“Indeed I do,” Mrs. Truxton extended both her 
hands, her face beaming with smiles. “Why haven’t 
you been to see me, Douglas?” she added reproach- 
fully. 

“I have been extremely busy since my arrival, 
Mrs. Truxton,” apologized Douglas. “I was look- 
ing forward to calling upon you this Sunday.” 

“Have you had a pleasant time this afternoon, 
Kate?” asked Thornton. 


143 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“Yes. It has been a delightful entertainment, 
just the right people and the right number.” 

“It would be pretty hard to crowd these grounds,” 
laughed Eleanor. 

“There isn’t any elbow room about the refresh- 
ment table,” put in Thornton; “I almost had to 
fight to get a plate of ice cream a few minutes ago.” 

“A much needed improvement would be small 
chairs scattered about the lawn,” grumbled Mrs. 
Truxton, leaning heavily on her parasol. “It is 
exceedingly tiresome having to stand so long.” 

“It would be prettier, too, and less formal,” 
agreed Eleanor. “The guests would then saunter 
over the lawns and not stand crowded together near 
the President.” 

“It would also be much more brilliant if the mem- 
bers of the Diplomatic Corps wore their Court 
dress,” announced Mrs. Truxton with decision, “in- 
stead of those hideous frock coats and gray 
trousers.” 

“What, in this weather, Kate?” exclaimed the 
astonished Colonel. “Do you wish to kill off the 
Corps bodily? They wear their Court dress only at 
the state receptions and the diplomatic dinners held 
at the White House every winter, or when Royalty 
is present.” 


144 


AT THE WHITE HOUSE 


U I know that,” pettishly. “But it would improve 
the brilliancy of this affair.” 

“Even with the objectionable frock coat,” laughed 
the Colonel, “this is a scene characteristic of the 
national capital alone. Nowhere else in this coun- 
try can such a gathering of distinguished men and 
women be brought together.” 

“You are quite right in that,” acknowledged Mrs. 
Truxton. “I’ve seen ten presidents come and go, 
and I have lived to see Washington develop in a 
way which would have surprised the founders. 
Mercy on us, look at ‘Fuss and Feathers.’ ” She 
nodded toward an overdressed, pretty little woman 
who was advancing in their direction. 

“Mrs. Blake has certainly outdone herself,” 
agreed Colonel Thornton, as he and Douglas raised 
their hats in greeting to the pretty woman who 
strolled past them. “I wonder she doesn’t make 
you wish to break the eighth commandment, 
Eleanor.” 

“Why?” exclaimed his niece. 

“On account of her collection of magnificent 
rubies” — Eleanor changed color — “I thought that 
stone was one of your ‘fads.’ ” 

“I like all jewelry.” The slight emphasis was lost 
on her companions. Eleanor fingered her parasol 
145 


THE MAN INSIDE 


nervously and glanced uneasily over her shoulder to 
where Douglas stood beyond earshot, talking to an 
old friend. “But I shall spend my time in wishing — 
I can never hope to rival Mrs. Blake’s collection.” 

“Marry a rich man and persuade him to give you 
rings and necklaces,” advised Thornton. Eleanor 
moved restlessly. 

“Mrs. Blake looks like a jeweler’s window,” 
broke in Mrs. Truxton, in her uncompromising bass. 
“Such a display at a garden party is unpardonable. 
It is extremely bad taste for any woman to wear to 
the White House more jewelry than adorns the 
President’s wife.” 

Thornton laughed outright. “Few women will 
agree with you, Kate. By the way, why didn’t you 
come to the telephone last night? I wanted to speak 
to you particularly. It wasn’t late when I called.” 

“I gave Soto, Eleanor’s cook, his English lesson 
last night, and when we got to a present participle 
used in a future sense to indicate a present intention 
of a future action I was so tired I had to go to 
bed,” explained Mrs. Truxton, as Douglas rejoined 
them. 

“After that I am only surprised that you ever got 
up again,” ejaculated the Colonel. 

“Cousin Kate nearly worries herself sick teaching 
146 


AT THE WHITE HOUSE 


Soto,” laughed Eleanor. “I only wish you had 
heard her describing the Kingdom of Heaven to 
him. She introduced some new features into that 
Kingdom which would probably surprise the Pres- 
byterian synod. I suppose she didn’t want to dis- 
appoint his great expectations.” 

“Is Soto a Jap?” asked Douglas, curiously. 

“Yes. I prefer Japanese servants, and both Soto 
and Fugi have been with me for some time,” said 
Eleanor. “Do you know, Uncle Dana, I have just 
discovered that Fugi has studied five years at the 
American school in Japan, two years at the Spen- 
cerian Business College, and is a graduate of Colum- 
bia University.” 

“Bless my soul!” exclaimed Mrs. Truxton. 
“After this I shan’t dare to ask him to pass me the 
bread. What did you want to say to me on the 
telephone, Dana?” 

“I wanted some facts about the late Governor 
Lane of Maryland, and, knowing you were a walk- 
ing encyclopedia, I thought you might help me out.” 

“Of course I can. Do you ” 

“Hush!” exclaimed Eleanor anxiously. “Here 
comes Captain Lane.” 

Douglas scanned the tall young officer approach- 
ing them with keen interest. His uniform set off his 
147 


THE MAN INSIDE 


fine figure to advantage, and his face was one to 
inspire confidence. 

“How are you, Mrs. Truxton,” he said. “Miss 
Eleanor, I’ve been searching the place for you. 
Won’t you come and see the rose garden with 
me? Oh, I beg pardon, Colonel, I didn’t see you at 
first.” 

“That’s all right, Lane. Have you met Mr. 
Hunter?” 

“No. How do you do, sir.” Lane wrung Doug- 
las’ hand. “Glad to know you.” 

“It is time for us all to go,” declared Mrs. Trux- 
ton. “We must say good-bye. Come with me, 
Douglas, I want to ask you some questions about 
your family.” 

As the small group strolled toward the White 
House, Colonel Thornton was buttonholed by an 
old friend. Mrs. Truxton, with Douglas in tow, 
crossed the ground to where the President was 
standing talking to several late arrivals. 

“Now’s our time,” whispered Lane in Eleanor’s 
ear. “The rose garden is to our right.” He said 
no more until they had passed the south portico and 
walked down the path leading to the wonderful box 
hedges which surround the rose garden. They had 
the place to themselves, and Eleanor exclaimed with 
148 


AT THE WHITE HOUSE 


pleasure at the beautiful flowers which were blos- 
soming in profusion. 

“How is Cynthia?” demanded Lane, stopping in 
the middle of the garden path and regarding his 
companion intently. 

“Almost a nervous wreck.” 

“My poor darling!” The soldier’s strong face 
betrayed deep feeling. “I wish I could comfort 
her.” His voice changed. “Miss Eleanor, why 
does she refuse to see me?” Eleanor hesitated per- 
ceptibly. “Wait, let me finish. I have called re- 
peatedly at the Carews’, only to be told that Cynthia 
is confined to her room ; I have written notes which 
I have given personally to Joshua to deliver, and 
have never received an answer to one of them. 

“I love Cynthia with all my heart and soul,” 
Lane’s voice shook with feeling, “and I would have 
sworn, before her uncle’s death, that my affection 
was returned. I cannot understand her avoidance 
of me, and her silence cuts deep” — Lane stopped a 
moment and cleared his throat — “Miss Eleanor, 
you are Cynthia’s most intimate friend, and you are 
with her constantly. You must have heard of some 
reason for her treatment of me.” 

Eleanor nodded without speaking. She heartily 
wished the interview was over. 


149 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“Then I implore you to tell me the reason of 
Cynthia’s silence.” 

“Cannot you imagine that for yourself?” began 
Eleanor; then, as Lane shook his head, she added: 
“Cynthia is overwrought, every action on Monday 

night seems distorted ” She again hesitated and 

bit her lip — “You went to look for her carriage; 
you were gone a long time, and when she entered 
the carriage her uncle was sitting there — dead.” 

Slowly her meaning dawned on Lane. “Good 

God! You don’t mean ?” he staggered back, 

his face gone white. 

“Yes.” 

“And she thinks that ! Cynthia, Cynthia, had you 
so little faith?” Lane’s agony was pitiful. 

“You must not be unjust to her,” cried Eleanor, 
her loyalty up in arms. “Remember, you had just 
told her of your fearful quarrel with her uncle; she 
had also seen you playing with a letter file when you 
were with her in the library ” 

“But, great Heavens! I didn’t take that out in 
the street with me,” exclaimed Lane passionately. 
“I tell you what it is, Miss Eleanor, I must see 
Cynthia and explain this terrible tangle. Can you 
help me meet her?” 

Eleanor considered for a moment. “I have al- 


AT THE WHITE HOUSE 


ready urged Cynthia to see you, but she has been so 
unnerved, so unstrung, that I could not make her see 
matters in a reasonable light. I think the best thing 
for you to do is to meet her when she least expects 
it.” 

“Capital! Can you arrange such a meeting?” 

“My uncle, Colonel Thornton, has asked Cynthia 
and me to go to his house in Georgetown to-morrow 
and spend Sunday. I think Mrs. Winthrop will per- 
mit Cynthia to go, and, if that is the case, you can 
call there to-morrow night.” 

“Good.” Lane paced the walk restlessly for a 
minute, then returned to Eleanor’s side. “It’s pretty 
hard to wait so long before seeing her,” he said, 
wistfully. 

Eleanor held out her hand. “Don’t be discour- 
aged; Cynthia loves you devotedly.” 

“God bless you for those words!” Lane caught 
her hand and raised her slender fingers to his lips. 

“Miss Thornton,” said a cold voice back of them, 
“Mrs. Truxton is waiting for you,” and Eleanor 
flushed scarlet as she met Douglas’ eyes. 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE MOTH AND THE FLAME 

D OUGLAS brought the powerful roadster to 
a standstill under the porte cochere of the 
Carew mansion, and disentangling himself 
from among the levers and wheel, ran up the few 
steps. Before he could ring the bell the door was 
opened by Colonel Thornton. 

“Come in,” he exclaimed heartily. “I saw you 
from the drawing-room window, and, as Joshua has 
gone to ask Mrs. Winthrop if she can see me, I 
thought I would let you in and not keep you standing 
outside.” 

“Thanks, Colonel.” Douglas followed the older 
man into the drawing-room. “Have you seen Miss 
Eleanor?” 

“No. Here, don’t sit on that gilt-edged insecur- 
ity,” as Douglas pulled forward a parlor chair. 
“This sofa is big enough to hold us both. Tell me, 
are there any new developments in the Carew case?” 
“Only that Brett is convinced Captain Lane is 
152 


THE MOTH AND THE FLAME 


guilty, and, from what he said this morning, I should 
not be at all surprised to hear of the latter’s arrest.” 

“Good Lord! you don’t say so. Poor, poor Cyn- 
thia. I greatly fear another shock will prove most 
dangerous in her present nervous condition.” 

“Has Mrs. Winthrop consented to Miss Carew’s 
spending to-morrow at your house?” 

“I don’t know yet ” Colonel Thornton 

stopped abruptly as the portieres parted and a 
woman stepped into the room. Thinking it was 
Mrs. Winthrop, he started to rise, but it proved to 
be Annette, and he sank back in his seat. 

“Bon jour , Messieurs ,” Annette readjusted the 
portieres with care, then walked with catlike quick- 
ness over to where the men were sitting. “Mistaire 
Hunter, you are investigating ze death of Senator 
Carew, n } est-ce pas, and you, Monsieur,” turning to 
Colonel Thornton, “are Madame Winthrop’s man 
of affairs?” 

“Well, what then?” asked Douglas quickly. 

“Only that I may be of help.” 

“Indeed?” 

“Oui, Messieurs,” calmly. “I know — much.” 

“Good,” Thornton’s tone betrayed his satisfac- 
tion. “Go ahead and tell us.” 

“Ah, non, non, Monsieur,” Annette shook her 
153 


THE MAN INSIDE 


head violently. “First, I must have some monie.” 

“What, a bribe?” Douglas spoke with rising in- 
dignation. 

“Non, Monsieur ; a reward.” 

“You must first tell us what you know,” explained 
Thornton patiently. “Then, if your information 
leads to the arrest and conviction of the murderer, 
you will be paid the one thousand dollars offered by 
Mrs. Winthrop.” 

“One thousand dollars, did you say, Monsieur? 
Non , I will not sell my news for that.” 

“It is the amount offered by Mrs. Winthrop.” 

“But Madame Winthrop is willing to give five 
thousand.” Annette glanced eagerly at the two men. 
“My news is worth that.” 

Thornton shook his head. “Mrs. Winthrop has 
reconsidered, and will not give more than one thou- 
sand,” he declared with finality. 

An obstinate frown marred Annette’s pretty face. 
“I will not take less than five thousand,” she an- 
nounced with emphasis. 

“You go too fast,” broke in Douglas quietly. 
“First, the reward will not be paid until after the 
murderer is convicted; secondly, your information 
may be of no value whatever.” 

“Zo?” Annette’s smile was not pleasant. “Zen I 
154 


THE MOTH AND THE FLAME 


keep my news to myself,” and she started for the 
door. 

“Wait,” commanded Thornton. “Come back 
here.” Then, as she obeyed, he added in a more 
kindly tone : “If your information is really valuable, 
Annette, I am willing to advance you some money. 
But first you must tell us what you know and sus- 
pect.” 

“How much?” 

“Say fifty dollars,” drawing out his leather wallet 
and extracting several yellow backs which he held 
temptingly in his hand. 

“Not enough, Monsieur.” 

Thornton lost all patience. “I shan’t offer you 
another damn cent,” and he thrust the money back 
into the wallet. 

Annette’s eyes flashed. “Very well, Monsieur le 
Colonel; I go. But when I come back you will 
have to pay me more — but yes — more than that beg- 
garly five thousand!” and with a stamp of her foot, 
she turned and hastened out of the room. 

“A nice she-devil!” remarked Thornton, gazing 
blankly at Douglas. 

“I think ” Douglas stopped speaking as the 

portieres were again thrust aside and Eleanor 
walked in. 


155 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“Uncle Dana, Mrs. Winthrop is waiting to see 
you in the library. Oh, Mr. Hunter, good morn- 
ing” — her slender hand was almost lost in his firm 
clasp — “I did not know you were here.” 

“I called hoping that you might care to take a 
motor ride,” said Douglas quickly. 

“Why, yes, with pleasure.” She sank down on 
the sofa and motioned Douglas to draw up a chair. 

“Eleanor,” broke in Thornton, returning from 
the hall door, “did you tell that precious maid of 
yours that Mrs. Winthrop would give five thousand 
dollars reward for information leading to the con- 
viction of the murderer of Senator Carew?” 

“Annette!” in profound astonishment. “No, cer- 
tainly not; I’ve never spoken to her on the subject. 
Where did you get such an idea?” Her voice rose 
to a higher key. 

“She has just been here and insists that we pay 
her five thousand for some information which she 
declares will solve the puzzle of poor Carew’s 
death.” 

Eleanor smiled incredulously. “Nonsense, I don’t 
believe she knows a thing about it.” Her bright 
color had faded and she gazed anywhere but at the 
two men. 

“It may be,” suggested Douglas thoughtfully, 
1 56 


THE MOTH AND THE FLAME 


“that while in this house she has found a certain 
paper for which Brett is searching.’’ 

“That’s possible,” agreed Thornton. “It was an- 
nounced in yesterday’s papers that a reward of one 
thousand dollars had been offered. But what gets 
me is how Annette knew Mrs. Winthrop might raise 
the amount to five thousand — the very sum, in fact, 
which she first thought of offering.” 

“I’m sure I don’t know.” Eleanor frowned in 
perplexity. 

“Is she a good servant?” inquired Douglas. 

“I have always found her honest and reliable. 
She brought me excellent recommendations when she 
came to me in Paris, where I engaged her,” replied 
Eleanor. 

“It may be that the mystery has gone to her 
head,” suggested Thornton, “and she is inspired to 
play detective.” 

“Personally, I think she is taking advantage of 
the present situation to extort money,” objected 
Douglas. 

“I believe you’ve hit it,” exclaimed the older man. 
“Tell Brett, Douglas, he may be able to induce An- 
nette to tell what she knows. I must go now and 
see Mrs. Winthrop.” 

“Let me know what she decides about Sunday,” 
157 


THE MAN INSIDE 


called Eleanor, as Thornton, for the second time, 
hurried out of the room. 

“You are looking tired, Miss Thornton,” said 
Douglas, glancing at her attentively. 

“I didn’t get much sleep last night. Cynthia was 
miserable, and I sat up with her until five o’clock 
this morning.” 

“No wonder you are worn out.” Douglas looked 
his concern. “I really think a motor ride would do 
you lots of good. Do keep your promise and come 
for a spin.” 

Eleanor glanced doubtfully down at her pretty 
house gown. “If you don’t mind waiting while I 
change ” 

“Why, certainly.” 

“I won’t be long” — and Eleanor disappeared. 

Douglas did not resume his seat; but instead 
paced the room with long, nervous strides. Eleanor 
was not the only one who had passed a sleepless 
night. He had sat up and wracked his brain trying 
to find the key to the solution of the mystery sur- 
rounding the Senator’s death. Annette must be 
made to tell what she knew. Perhaps Brett’s au- 
thority as an officer of the law might intimidate her. 
It was worth trying. Walking down to the folding 
doors, which led from the drawing-room to the din- 
158 


THE MOTH AND THE FLAME 


ing room, he opened them and found Joshua busy 
polishing the mahogany table. 

“Is there a branch telephone in the house ?” he 
asked, “besides the one in the library? Mrs. Win- 
throp is in there and I don’t want to disturb her.” 

“Suttenly, suh; dar’s one right in de pantry, suh,” 
and Joshua, dropping his work, piloted him to the 
instrument. 

It took him but a few minutes to get police head- 
quarters on the wire, only to find that Brett was out. 
Whistling softly, he hung up the receiver and went 
back into the drawing-room. Eleanor had not ap- 
peared, and he sat down at the inlaid desk, which 
was supplied with pen, ink, and paper, and wrote a 
short note while he waited for her return. 

“Where’s Eleanor?” asked Thornton, coming into 
the room and picking up his hat, which he had left 
on one of the chairs. 

“Here,” and his niece, who had entered just be- 
hind him, joined them. “I am sorry to have kept 
you so long, Mr. Hunter, but I found Annette had 
gone out on an errand for Cynthia, and I had to do 
without her assistance.” 

“You were very successful.” Thornton made her 
a courtly bow, as he gazed at his beautiful niece. 
Her fashionable light-gray suit and smart hat were 
159 


THE MAN INSIDE 


extremely becoming. Eleanor colored faintly as she 
read the admiration in Douglas’ eyes. 

“What luck did you have with Mrs. Winthrop, 
Uncle Dana?” she asked. 

“The best. She said she thought it an excellent 
plan. So I shall expect you both this afternoon, 
Eleanor, and you had better stop and pick up your 
Cousin Kate Truxton on your way out.” 

“Very well, I will; but, Uncle Dana, we won’t 
get over to you until just before dinner.” 

“That will do.” The two men followed Eleanor 
out into the square hall. “Don’t forget, Douglas, 
that I expect you, too.” 

“That’s very good of you, sir,” Douglas hesi- 
tated, “but don’t you think I might be in the way in 
a family party?” 

“A family party is exactly what I wish to avoid,” 
exclaimed Thornton. “Cynthia needs to be taken 
out of herself. And, therefore, I want you to spend 
Sunday with us, as if it were a regular house party.” 

“Then I’ll come with pleasure.” Douglas helped 
Eleanor into the low seat of the motor, and clam- 
bered in behind the wheel. “I’m awfully sorry there 
isn’t a third seat, Colonel, and that I can’t take you 
where you wish to go.” 

“I left my car down by the curb; thanks all the 
160 


THE MOTH AND THE FLAME 


same, Douglas,’’ and Thornton waved a friendly 
good-bye to Eleanor as the motor started slowly 
down the driveway. 

“If you have no objection, I will stop at the 
Municipal Building for a moment, Miss Thornton,” 
said Douglas, turning the car into Thirteenth Street. 

“I don’t mind in the least. What a magnificent 
motor !” 

“Isn’t it?” with enthusiasm, as he steered safely 
between another machine and a delivery wagon. 
“My chief in Tokio has one just like this, and I 
learned to run his car.” 

As they crossed K Street he put on the emergency 
brakes hard and the motor stopped just in time, as a 
touring car shot in front of them and disappeared 
down the street. When the car was again under 
way, Douglas turned to the silent girl by his side. 

“That was the Japanese Ambassador, was it 
not?” 

“Yes.” 

“He seemed to be in the devil of a hurry; it was 
a near smash.” 

“A little too near for comfort.” Eleanor drew a 
long breath. “I noticed some luggage in his car — 
oh, take care!” as the motor skidded toward the 
gutter. 

161 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“I beg your pardon, I didn’t mean to frighten 
you,” said Douglas, as he applied the brake going 
down Thirteenth Street hill to Pennsylvania Avenue. 
“That chap got on my nerves; I don’t care if he is 
an ambassador, and exempt from arrest, he has no 
business to be breaking our rules and regulations.” 

“Come, now, didn’t you break some rules when in 
Japan?” asked Eleanor, her lovely face dimpling 
into a smile. Douglas started slightly, but she ap- 
parently did not notice his discomfiture. “Judging 
from the luggage in the car, and the rate at which 
they were going, I imagine the Ambassador was 
trying to catch a train.” 

“It does look that way.” Douglas brought the 
car to a standstill before one of the entrances to the 
Municipal Building. “I won’t be a minute, Miss 
Thornton.” 

“Don’t hurry on my account,” called Eleanor 
after him. 

Brett was still out, so Douglas gave the note he 
had written when waiting for Eleanor at the 
Carews’ to the attendant, first adding a postscript 
and enclosing it in a large envelope, with instructions 
that it was to be delivered to the detective immedi- 
ately on his return. Then, with a lighter heart, he 
hastened out of the building and rejoined Eleanor. 

162 


THE MOTH AND THE FLAME 


“Where do you wish to go, Miss Thornton?” he 
asked, as they started slowly up Pennsylvania 
Avenue. 

Eleanor considered a moment before answering. 
“Suppose we go out the Conduit Road,” she said 
finally. 

Douglas swung the machine across the broad 
avenue and through the short street behind the 
Treasury Department into the drive which circles 
around the White House grounds. “It’s some years 
since I’ve been out in this direction, Miss Thornton, 
so, if I go astray, please put me back on the straight 
and narrow path.” 

“Straight out Pennsylvania Avenue and through 
Georgetown,” directed Eleanor, as the big car swung 
back again into that avenue. “The narrow path 
only comes after you reach the Conduit.” 

“Then it should be spelled ‘Conduct.’ You have 
been going out a great deal this winter, have you 
not?” 

“Yes; Washington has been extremely gay, and 
I have enjoyed it so much.” 

Douglas smiled down at her. “And I bet a thou- 
sand to one that Washington enjoyed you. I asked 
about your going out, because I am wondering if, 
among all the men you’ve met this winter, you have 


THE MAN INSIDE 


come across a middle-aged man with black hair and 
beard and very blue eyes?” 

Not receiving a reply, Douglas turned and 
scanned his companion. She sat silent, gazing 
straight before her. The car sped on for several 
squares before she roused herself. 

“That is a very vague description, Mr. Hunter. 
Do you remember the man’s name?” 

Douglas shook his head. “I have never heard it. 
I only asked because I was under the impression that 
I saw him with you at the Navy Department on 
Thursday morning.” 

“With me — at the Navy Department ” gasped 
Eleanor, sitting bolt upright. She was white to the 
lips. 

“Yes, I thought I saw him talking to you in an 
elevator. I just caught a glimpse of you as the cage 
descended past the floor on which I was.” 

“You are entirely mistaken, Mr. Hunter.” 
Eleanor’s eyes did not waver before his questioning 
look. “I was alone, though I do recollect there was 
another passenger in the elevator who got out on 
the first floor, while I continued on down to the 
basement.” 

“Then I was mistaken.” Douglas slowed the car 
down to the limit prescribed by law as he crossed 
164 


THE MOTH AND THE FLAME 


the M Street bridge over Rock Creek, then increased 
the speed as they progressed through Georgetown. 

“You have aroused my curiosity.” Eleanor set- 
tled herself more comfortably in the low seat. 
“Why do you take an interest in a man with blue 
eyes and black hair?” 

“Because I thought he was with you.” 

“Upon my word!” Eleanor’s laugh held a shade 
of annoyance. “That’s a very silly reason.” 

“I don’t think it is,” replied Douglas, steadily. 
“I am interested in everything that concerns you.” 

Eleanor surveyed him keenly. She studied the 
fine profile, the broad shoulders, and the powerful 
hands holding the steering wheel. The quiet figure 
seemed instinct with the vital personality of the man, 
a living part of the pulsing machine which he was 
guiding through the narrow, congested street with 
such skill. They crossed Thirty-seventh Street, and 
in a few minutes the car leaped ahead up the hill 
leading to the Conduit. 

Eleanor said nothing, and Douglas was equally 
silent. They had the narrow road to themselves, 
and he increased the speed. The wheels raced like 
velvet on the finished macadam. On they sped. 
Soon Eleanor caught a glimpse of the Potomac be- 
low them, and the bright sunlight sparkled on the 

1 65 


THE MAN INSIDE 


water and on the green foliage of the wooded banks 
of the Maryland and Virginia shores. They passed 
the Three Sisters, then the reservoirs, and Douglas 
saw a straight stretch of road ahead and no vehicle 
in sight. The next moment the powerful machine, 
gathering speed, shot down the road, which seemed 
a narrowing white strip as the revolving wheels de- 
voured the distance. 

Douglas turned his eyes a moment from the flying 
landscape to Eleanor, who sat, tense, fearless, her 
pulses leaping as the rushing wind stung her cheeks. 
She caught his look. “Faster, faster,” she called. 
And obediently Douglas threw wide open the throt- 
tle. On, on they flew. A wild exhilaration en- 
gulfed Eleanor; her spirit seemed to soar, de- 
tached from things earthly. She cast a glance of 
resentment at Douglas who, seeing the road curved 
in the distance, slackened speed. By the time the 
big car reached the turning, he had brought it to a 
standstill near the side of the road. 

Eleanor drew a long breath. “Oh, why did 
you stop?” Her eyes shone like stars. “It was 
glorious.” 

“I stopped” — Douglas turned squarely in his 
seat, and faced Eleanor — “because I want to ask 
you to confide in me.” 

1 66 


THE MOTH AND THE FLAME 


“To do what?” Eleanor’s deep blue eyes opened 
to their widest extent. 

“To tell me” — Douglas hesitated over his choice 
of words — “your mission in life.” 

Eye to eye they gazed at each other. Eleanor 
was the first to speak. 

“I am at a loss to understand your singular re- 
quest,” she said, freezingly. 

“Miss Thornton, do me the justice to think that I 
am not asking from idle curiosity — it is because I 
have your welfare so deeply at heart.” 

“If I did not know you to be a sane person, I 
would think you had suddenly lost your mind. As 
you take the matter so seriously, I must repeat that 
I am concerned in nothing.” 

Douglas held her gaze, as if in the limpid depths 
of her blue eyes he would fathom the secret of her 
soul. Eleanor’s breath came and went, she colored 
painfully, but her eyes never dropped before his. 
Nearer he bent and nearer. The virile strength of 
the man drew her, and his arms closed about her 
slender waist. 

“Eleanor, I love you.” The very repression of 
his tone added to its intensity. 

Fearlessly she raised her lips to his — in 
surrender. 


167 


THE MAN INSIDE 


Some time later Douglas backed the car a yard 
or two, then turned it toward Washington, but their 
return trip was made with due attention to the speed 
law. 

“Will you please tell me — Douglas” — she hesi- 
tated adorably over his name — “Indeed, you must 
not kiss me again” — drawing back as far as the seat 
would permit. “Why did you avoid me in Paris?” 

A shadow passed over Douglas’ radiant face, and 
was gone before Eleanor observed it. 

“I suppose you would call it false pride,” he said. 
“I had no money — you had much — and so I wor- 
shiped from a distance. Now that my inheritance 
has made me well-to-do, I felt that I had a right to 
ask you to marry me. In Paris I thought you would 
take me for a fortune hunter.” 

“Which only goes to show what fools men are,” 
exclaimed Eleanor roguishly. “Bend down nearer 
me” — she placed her mouth close to his ear. “You 
could have had me for the asking then, dear heart” 
— his left arm stole about her — “for I know a man 
when I see one.” 

“Not a word, remember.” 

“Madame has my promise.” Annette tucked the 
small roll of bills inside the bosom of her gown, as 
1 68 


THE MOTH AND THE FLAME 


Mrs. Winthrop replaced her pocketbook in her 
leather handbag. 

“Where is Miss Eleanor?” 

“Joshua tells me that in my absence Mademoiselle 
left ze house to motor wiz Monsieur Hunter.” 

“If she asks for me on her return tell her that I 
will be back in time to lunch with her and Miss 
Cynthia.” 

“ Oui , madame ” Annette assisted Mrs. Win- 
throp into her coat, then left the bedroom. From a 
safe distance down the hall she watched Mrs. Win- 
throp descend the staircase, and waited until she 
heard Joshua close the front door after her and 
retreat into his own domain. She then slipped noise- 
lessly down the hall and into Mrs. Winthrop’s bed- 
room. Half an hour passed before she again ap- 
peared, wearing a satisfied smile. The hall was 
empty. “I have seen what I have seen,” she mut- 
tered under her breath exultingly, as she proceeded 
downstairs. “And I think I will haf more monie by 
to-morrow. Mon Dieu!” 

The peal of the front bell had startled her from 
her reverie. As Joshua did not appear to answer it, 
she crossed the square hall and opened the door. A 
tall man, wearing nondescript clothes, confronted 
her in the vestibule. 


169 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“Miss Thornton, is she in?” he questioned. The 
contrast of his deep blue eyes against his tanned 
skin and black beard held her attention. Receiving 
no reply, he repeated his question with emphasis. 

“Non, Mademoiselle is out in ze motor,” she 
answered, none too civilly. 

Without a word he turned on his heel and 
hastened down the steps. Annette stared up the 
street after him; then closed the door softly, her 
pretty forehead puckered in a frown. Where had 
she seen those eyes before? 


CHAPTER XV 


“thornton's nest” 

D OUGLAS, suitcase in hand, ran across 
Seventeenth Street in time to catch a 
Georgetown car. As he paid the conduc- 
tor he heard his name called and, glancing down 
the half empty car, saw Captain Chisholm seated at 
the farther end and beckoning to him. He made 
his way down the center aisle and joined the English- 
man. 

“Can you dine with me, Douglas?” asked Chis- 
holm, making room for him on the narrow seat. 

“Ask me some other time, old man, I am dining 
with Colonel Thornton to-night.” 

“Then suppose we make it Monday night at the 
Metropolitan Club?” 

“Thanks, I will. At what hour?” 

“Eight o’clock. I was sorry to miss you when 
you called this afternoon, Douglas.” 

“How did you know I had been to see you, Chis- 
171 


THE MAN INSIDE 


holm?” in surprise. “The telephone girl told me 
you were out.” 

“I stopped for a moment at the Rochambeau and 
found your card in my letter box. I am on my way 
to the embassy now. Washington seems to agree 
with you, Douglas,” eying his companion with in- 
terest. “I never saw you looking better.” 

“Happiness is a great health restorer,” laughed 
Douglas. 

“Happiness?” Chisholm tugged at his fair mus- 
tache. “Hum!” he looked carefully around. They 
had that end of the car to themselves. “Heard the 
news?” 

“What news?” 

“About the Japanese Ambassador?” 

“No.” 

“He has been recalled.” 

“For what reason?” 

“Not given out,” shortly. “He called at the 
White House and State Department, presented his 
papers and left this morning.” Chisholm looked 
Douglas squarely in the face. “Can’t give a poor 
blasted Englishman a point on the situation, I sup- 
pose?” -v 

Douglas smiled with his lips, but his eyes were 
grave. “I would if I could — but I can’t. The Am* 
172 


“THORNTON’S NEST” 


bassador’s sudden departure is as great a surprise 
to me as to you.” 

Chisholm leaned forward and touched the elec- 
tric button as the car approached N Street. “I’ll 
look you up to-morrow, Douglas. Ta-ta, old chap,” 
and he hurried out of the car. 

Douglas settled back on his seat and pondered 
over the information Chisholm had given him. 
What did the Ambassador’s abrupt departure por- 
tend? Was it but another of those puzzling coin- 
cidences which seemed to follow in the wake of 
Senator Carew’s murder, or was it the culmination 
of an intrigue which would end in war? 

The spring day was drawing to a close as Douglas 
left the car in Georgetown and walked toward 
“Thornton’s Nest.” The old place had not altered 
since he had seen it last, twelve years before, even 
the beautiful old garden appeared as usual, the same 
box hedge, the envy of the neighboring landowners, 
separated the sidewalk from the well-kept private 
grounds. The large, old-fashioned mansion stood 
back some distance in its own grounds. The bricks 
had been brought from Philadelphia by sloop, and 
the fanlight over the front door had been imported 
from England in the days prior to the Revolution- 
ary War. The huge columns supporting the arched 
173 


THE MAN INSIDE 


roof shone white in the gathering darkness. Doug- 
las turned in at the gate and ran lightly up the few 
stone steps leading to the portico and rang the bell. 
He had hardly removed his hand from the button 
when the hall door was opened and an old darky 
confronted him on the threshold. 

“Cum right in, Marse Douglas, I’se mighty glad 
ter see yo’ ag’in, suh.” 

“Nicodemus, is that you?” shaking the old man’s 
hand. “I haven’t seen you since you chased me off 
the grounds for stealing apples. How’s Sophy?” 

“Only tol’able, thank ye, suh; she’s got a misery 
in her back. Want ter go to yo’ room, suh?” 

“No; I’ll just leave my hat and overcoat here.” 

“Yessir; let me take yo’ bag, suh; I’ll tote it 
upstairs. My!” as Douglas stepped forward so that 
the hall light fell full on him, “how yo’ do favor 
yo’ pa, the ole Cunnel.” 

Douglas laughed. “Thanks. Have the ladies 
come yet?” 

“Yessir. Dey’s upstairs makin’ demselves com- 
fo’able. Cunnel Thornton will be down direckly. 
Yo’ jes’ walk inter de pawlar.” 

Douglas strolled over to the large hall mirror and 
inspected his tie with care; he had been in a hurry 
when getting into his evening clothes at the Albany, 
174 


“THORNTON’S NEST” 


and the tie had proved troublesome. He readjusted 
it with care, felt in his vest pocket for a small box, 
then turned and surveyed his surroundings. A coach 
and four might have driven through the broad hall 
which ran the length of the house. At the end of 
the hall two broad circular staircases led to a wide 
landing, from which branched the two flights of 
steps leading to the first bedroom floor. Doors 
leading to the drawing-room, library, billiard, and 
dining-rooms opened on the right and left of the 
hall. 

Remembering that the drawing-room was to the 
left of the entrance, Douglas entered the open hall 
door and walked over to the mantelpiece to see the 
time by the tall marble clock. 

“Aren’t you going to speak to me?” asked a voice 
behind him, and Douglas sprang around with an ex- 
clamation of delight. Eleanor was seated on a chair 
by one of the windows, and its high back, which 
was partly turned to the hall door, had concealed 
her from view. 

“My darling!” Douglas kissed the winsome face 
rapturously. “Nicodemus told me you had arrived, 
but that you were upstairs, otherwise I should have 
come in at once; I begrudge the time I wasted in 
the hall.” 


175 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“I hurried and came down ahead of the others, 
hoping that you would get here early; I particularly 
wanted to see you, Douglas.” 

“Did you?” in mock surprise. “I’ve been want- 
ing to see you ever since I left you this morning. 
The time has dragged since then.” 

She slipped her hand in his. “It’s just this, 
Douglas,” her softly modulated voice had a trace of 
nervousness: “I want to ask you to keep our en- 
gagement a secret” — his face fell — “just a few 
days,” hastily. “I want to get accustomed to it 
before telling the family” — she blushed divinely. - 
“It’s such a precious secret.” 

Douglas took her face between his hands and 
pressed a passionate kiss on her lips. “Your wish is 
my law,” he said gravely. “I was disappointed for 
the moment, because I am anxious to have the whole 
world know my happiness. I brought you this” — 
pulling a small square box from his vest pocket and 
laying it in her outstretched hand. 

With a low cry of pleasure she pulled off the 
wrapping paper and opened the box. The light 
from the lamp on the table near her chair was re- 
flected back from a superb ruby in a diamond set- 
ting. The box slipped from her nervous fingers and 
rolled on the floor. 


176 


“THORNTON’S NEST” 


“Oh, get it quick, Douglas, I didn’t mean to be so 
clumsy.” 

Douglas reached under the table, where the box 
had rolled, and picked it up. “It’s all right, my 
dearest; don’t look so worried; the ring isn’t in- 
jured, for it is still in the box, see ” he held it 

before her eyes. “Give me your left hand, dear;” 
Eleanor shrank slightly away from him, but Douglas 
was intent in removing the ring from the box and 
did not notice her agitation. “It is very becoming 
to your hand,” slipping it on the third finger, “the 
deep crimson shows off the whiteness of your 
skin.” 

“It’s just lovely.” Eleanor drew a long breath, 
then raised her head and kissed him tenderly. 
“Thanks, dear heart, for so beautiful a present. 
But I am afraid if I wear it to-night our engagement 
will be a secret no longer.” 

“That’s true!” exclaimed Douglas, his voice be- 
traying his disappointment. “Put it back in the box” 
— holding it out to her. 

“I’ll do no such thing” — indignantly. “Take it 
off, Douglas, and give it to me”; he did so, and she 
slipped the ring inside the bodice of her low-cut eve- 
ning gown. “Tell me, dearest, how did you happen 
to select a ruby?” 


177 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“It’s my birthstone” — Douglas colored — “I hope 
you won’t think me horribly sentimental.” 

“I shall not tell you what I think — it might turn 
your head. Hush! here comes Uncle Dana.” 

Thornton strode into the room with outstretched 
hand. “Welcome to ‘The Nest,’ Douglas; I am 
sorry I wasn’t downstairs when you came. I hope 
Eleanor has been doing the honors acceptably.” 

“She has, indeed, and proved a host in herself,” 
laughed Douglas. 

“Good; though it’s a mystery how she got down 
ahead of the others.” 

“I was selfish enough to keep Annette to myself 
until I was fully dressed,” said Eleanor, “then I sent 
her to Cousin Kate.” 

“So you brought Annette with you?” asked 
Thornton. 

“Yes, indeed. I had no intention of inflicting 
your bachelor household with three women and no 
handmaiden. I knew Sophy would have her hands 
full cooking dinner, therefore I brought Annette 
along.” Her restless eyes detected a figure hover- 
ing just outside the hall door. “Come in, Cynthia,” 
and she went forward to meet her friend. 

The two beautiful girls made a picture good to 
look upon as they stood together. Cynthia wore a 
178 


“THORNTON’S NEST” 


simple frock which matched her cheeks in white- 
ness; while the pathetic droop of her mouth and 
the dark shadows under her eyes did not detract 
from her charm, she looked wretchedly ill. She 
shook hands with Douglas, when he was presented 
to her, with polite indifference, then seated herself 
in a chair and leaned back wearily. Douglas and 
Thornton exchanged glances, and the latter shook 
his head sadly. He was about to speak when Mrs. 
Truxton bustled into the room. 

“I am sorry to keep everybody waiting,” she ex- 
claimed, as Douglas pulled forward a chair for her. 
“But, if you will have dinner at such a ridiculously 
early hour, Dana, you must expect your guests to be 
late.” 

“You are not late, Kate, for dinner has not yet 
been announced. I had it earlier than usual as I 
thought we would retire soon afterwards and get a 
good night’s rest.” 

Cynthia shuddered involuntarily, and Eleanor, 
whose hand rested on her shoulder, patted it affec- 
tionately. “It’s all very well for you older people 
to keep early hours, Uncle Dana, but Cynthia and I 
are going to do just as we please. Personally, I 
expect to stay up until the wee sma’ hours.” 

“Dinner am served,” announced Nicodemus, 
179 


THE MAN INSIDE 


opening the folding doors leading to the dining- 
room, and, with an old-fashioned courtly bow, 
Colonel Thornton offered his arm to Mrs. Truxton 
and escorted her to the table, the two girls and 
Douglas following in their wake. 

The dinner passed quickly. Thornton was an 
agreeable talker, and Douglas, who had traveled in 
many lands, seconded his efforts by recounting many 
amusing experiences which had befallen him. Cyn- 
thia’s pale cheeks assumed a more natural hue as 
the two skilful talkers drew her out of herself, and 
Thornton sat back, well pleased, when he finally 
succeeded in making her laugh. 

“Washington isn’t what it used to be,” he de- 
clared. “As trite a statement as it is true. Its very 
bigness has spoiled it socially. There are cliques 
within cliques, and too many foreign elements domi- 
nate it nowadays.” 

“Do you refer to the Diplomatic Corps?” asked 
Douglas, breaking off a low-toned conversation with 
Eleanor. 

“Not entirely. When I speak of the ‘foreign 
element,’ I also mean the ‘climbers.’ ” 

“We Georgetown people call them the ‘pushers,’ ” 
announced Mrs. Truxton, helping herself to the 
ice cream which Nicodemus was passing. 

180 


“THORNTON’S NEST ” 


“And yet,” continued Thornton, “I dare say there 
were just as amusing characters in Washington 
fifty years ago as now.” 

“How about the woman of whom I have heard,” 
asked Eleanor, “who carried off the silver meat 
skewer at the French Legation, as it was then, as a 
souvenir, and afterwards proudly used it as a hat- 
pin?” 

“Human nature is very much the same from one 
generation to another,” acknowledged Mrs. Trux- 
ton. “But the types are different. I recollect my 
grandmother’s telling me that she attended services 
one Sunday at St. John’s Episcopal Church on La- 
fayette Square when the rector preached a fiery 
sermon against the sin of dueling. Mrs. Alexander 
Hamilton and her daughter sat in the pew just in 
front of my grandmother, and she said Miss Hamil- 
ton bore the tirade for some minutes, then rose, 
turned to her mother, and remarked in an audible 
tone: ‘Come, Ma; we’ll go. This is no place for 
us.’ ” 

“Come, you needn’t put it all on Washington,” 
exclaimed Douglas. “Georgetown has famous blun- 
derers and eccentric characters as well.” 

“And ghosts,” added Mrs. Truxton. “Do not 
deprive Georgetown of its chief attraction. Ghosts 
181 


THE MAN INSIDE 


and Past Glory walk hand and hand through these 
old streets.’’ 

“Ghosts,” echoed Douglas, turning to his host. 
“Unless my memory is playing me false, this house 
used to be thought haunted. It seems to me I’ve 
heard tales of secret passages and mysterious 
noises.” 

Thornton laughed outright. “That old legend 
was caused by flying squirrels getting in the wall 
through cracks in the eaves and chimneys. Some- 
times on still nights I can hear them dropping nuts, 
which make a great noise as they fall from floor to 
floor. It’s enough to scare a nervous person into 
fits.” 

“You are very disappointing, Uncle Dana,” ob- 
jected Eleanor. “When Douglas — Mr. Hunter,” 
— catching herself up, but no one apparently no- 
ticed the slip, and she went on hurriedly — “spoke 
of spooks I had hopes of an ancestral ghost.” 

“I always understood that this house was haunted, 
Dana,” put in Mrs. Truxton. 

“Well, I believe we are supposed to possess a 
ghost — a very respectable, retiring one,” added 
Thornton, as Cynthia’s eyes, which were fixed upon 
him, grew to twice their usual size. “My great- 
aunt, Sophronia Thornton, was a maiden lady, a 
182 


“THORNTON’S NEST” 


good deal of a Tartar, I imagine, from the dance 
she led my Great-grandfather Thornton, who was 
an easy-going, peaceable man. She ran the house 
for him until his marriage, and then ran his wife, 
and, according to tradition, she has run her de- 
scendants out of her room ever since.” 

“Good gracious!” ejaculated Cynthia. “Do tell 
us all about her.” 

“There is not so very much to recount.” Thorn- 
ton smiled at her eagerness. “The story goes, as I 
heard it first from my grandfather, that when he 
attempted to occupy her room, the southwest cham- 
ber, he was driven out.” 

“How?” 

“He was very fond of reading in bed. As I said 
before, my great aunt was very rigid and did not 
approve of late hours, which was one rock she and 
her brother split on. My grandfather, not having 
the lighting facilities of the present day, used to 
read in bed by placing a lighted candlestick on his 
chest, holding his book behind the candle so that 
its light fell full on the printed page. At eleven 
o’clock every night he would feel a slight puff of air 
and the candle would go out. He tried everything 
to stop it. He stuffed every crack and cranny 
through which a draft might be supposed to come, 

183 


THE MAN INSIDE 


but it was of no use; his light was always extin- 
guished at eleven o’clock.” 

“Do you believe it?” asked Cynthia. 

Thornton shrugged his shoulders. “I can only 
give you my own experience. I occupied the room 
once, when home on a college vacation. The house 
was filled with visitors, and I was put in the south- 
west chamber. Everything went on very smoothly 
until one night I decided to cram for an examina- 
tion, and took my books to my room. I had an 
ordinary oil lamp on the table by my bed, and so 
commenced reading. After I had been reading 
about an hour the lamp went out suddenly. I 
struck a match and relit it; again it was extinguished. 
We kept that up most of the night; then I gathered 
my belongings and spent the rest of the time before 
breakfast on the sofa in the library, where I was 
not disturbed by the whims of the ghost of my 
spinster great-aunt.” 

“ ‘There are more things in Heaven and earth,’ ” 
quoted Eleanor, as she rose in obedience to a signal 
from Mrs. Truxton. “Where shall we go, Uncle 
Dana?” as they strolled out into the hall. 

“Into the library. Nicodemus will serve coffee 
there, and, if you ladies have no objection, Douglas 
and I will smoke there also.” 

184 


“THORNTON’S NEST” 


“Why, certainly,” exclaimed Mrs. Truxton, pick- 
ing out a comfortable chair and signaling Douglas 
to take the one next hers, and without more ado she 
plunged into questions relating to his family history. 
He cast longing glances at Eleanor, but she refused 
to take the hint conveyed, and, to his secret annoy- 
ance, walked out of the room shortly after. 

Cynthia was having an animated conversation 
with Colonel Thornton and sipping her coffee when, 
happening to look in the direction of the hall door, 
she saw Eleanor standing there, beckoning to her. 
Making a hurried excuse to the Colonel, she joined 
Eleanor in the hall, who, without a word, slipped 
her arm about her waist and led her into the draw- 
ing-room. 

“What is ?” The words died in her throat 

as she caught sight of a tall, soldierly figure stand- 
ing under the chandelier. Eleanor discreetly van- 
ished, closing the hall door softly behind her as 
she went. 

“You!” Cynthia shrank back against the wall as 
Lane stepped forward. 

“Cynthia, darling!” He held out his arms 
pleadingly, but with a moan she turned her face 
from him. His eyes flashed with indignation. 
“Cynthia, you have no right to condemn me un- 
185 


THE MAN INSIDE 


heard. I am innocent.” He approached her and 
gently took her hand in his. 

Her eyes were closed, and a few tears forced 
themselves under the lids, the scalding teardrops 
that come when the fountain is dry and only bitter 
grief forces such expression of sorrow. 

‘‘Dear one, look at me. I am not guilty. I have 
forced myself upon you because I want you to un- 
derstand” — he spoke slowly, as if reasoning with a 
child — “that I am absolutely innocent. . . 

“Not in thought!” burst in Cynthia. 

“Perhaps not,” — steadily, — “but in deed. I spoke 
in anger. Your uncle had insulted me grossly when 
I met him just before going to Mrs. Owen’s dance, 
and in my indignation I uttered a wish which would 
have been better left unsaid. But listen to reason, 
dear; to think evil is not a crime.” 

Cynthia threw back her head and gazed at him 
wildly. “Oh, I would so gladly, gladly believe you 
innocent!” She placed her small, trembling hands 
on his breast. “It hurts horribly — because I love 
you so.” 

Lane caught her in a close embrace. “My dar- 
ling — my dear, dear one ” His voice choked. 

Cynthia lay passive in his arms. Suddenly she 
raised her white face and kissed him passionately, 
1 86 


“THORNTON’S NEST” 


then thrust him from her. “Oh, God! why did 
you take that sharp letter file with you?” 

“I didn’t!” The words were positive, but his 
looks belied them. 

“She says you did — she declares that when she 
met you looking for the carriage you held it in your 
hand ” The words seemed forced from Cyn- 

thia. She placed a hand on the chair nearest her 
as she swayed slightly. 

“She! Who?” The question was almost a roar. 

“Annette.” 


CHAPTER XVI 


A CRY IN THE NIGHT 

E LEANOR tiptoed over to the bed. At last 
Cynthia had dropped asleep. It seemed 
hours since Lane’s call for help had taken 
her into the drawing-room, where she found Cyn- 
thia stretched upon the floor and the young officer 
bending frantically over her. Dr. Marsh, who 
fortunately resided next door but one, had been 
sent for, and, on his arrival in hot haste, Cynthia 
had been revived and carried to her room. Cyn- 
thia had shown a sudden aversion to having An- 
nette about, so Eleanor had sent the maid to bed, 
and since ten o’clock had been sitting with Cynthia, 
trying to quiet her. 

Eleanor glanced about the room. There was 
nothing more she could do, and, stretching herself 
wearily, she arranged the night light so that it would 
not shine in Cynthia’s eyes, and placed an old- 
fashioned brass bell on the small table by the bed, 
1 88 


A CRY IN THE NIGHT 


so that if Cynthia needed assistance she could ring 
for aid. Then, moving softly for fear of waking 
the sleeper, she stole across the room, turned out the 
gas, and, stepping into the hall, closed the door 
gently after her. 

Some time later she was busy undressing in her 
own room when a faint knock disturbed her. On 
opening the door she found Mrs. Truxton standing 
in the hall with a quilted wrapper drawn tight 
around her portly figure. 

“I thought you hadn’t gone to bed,” she remarked 
in a sibilant whisper which was more penetrating 
than an ordinary low-pitched voice. “I just could 
not go to bed” — selecting a large oak rocker — “until 
I had some explanation of this extraordinary af- 
fair. Will you please inform me what made that 
poor girl faint in the drawing-room?” 

“She is in a very nervous, excitable condition, 
Cousin Kate, which reacts on her heart action.” 
Eleanor glanced despairingly at Mrs. Truxton. She 
knew the latter was an inveterate, though kindly, 
gossip. Apparently she had come to stay for some 
time, as she sat rocking gently to and fro, her curl 
papers making a formidable halo around her soft 
gray hair. 

“Heart action?” echoed Mrs. Truxton. “That’s 
189 


THE MAN INSIDE 


as it may be. What was Captain Lane doing 
here?” 

Eleanor started violently. She particularly wanted 
to keep the fact that Cynthia and Lane had been 
together a secret. She had watched for his arrival, 
and had let him in before he had an opportunity 
to ring the front door bell, and had shown him at 
once into the deserted drawing-room. During their 
interview she had mounted guard in the hall. Hear- 
ing Lane’s call for assistance, she had opened the 
drawing-room door, and, before summoning her 
uncle and the servants, had advised Lane to leave 
the house. She supposed he had followed her ad- 
vice. 

“Where in the world did you see him?” she 
asked. 

“So he was here!” Mrs. Truxton smiled de- 
lightedly, while Eleanor flushed with vexation as 
she realized she had given herself away unneces- 
sarily. “Your uncle and Douglas were discussing 
politics, and I slipped away to remind Nicodemus 
to put some sandwiches in my room, as I always 
want a late supper, particularly after so early a 
dinner. When I walked through the billiard room 
on my way to the library I happened to glance 
through the door leading into the hall, and was 
190 


A CRY IN THE NIGHT 


surprised to see a man standing by the hatrack. As 
he raised his head I thought I recognized Fred Lane 
— I wasn’t quite sure, though, but before I could 
call his name he had vanished.” 

“I see.” Eleanor came to a quick resolution. 
‘‘You have probably heard, Cousin Kate,” sitting 
down on the edge of her bed nearest the older 
woman, “that Fred Lane is very much in love with 
Cynthia.” Mrs. Truxton nodded her head vigor- 
ously. “Eventually, after he had paid her a great 
deal of attention, they became engaged. Unfor- 
tunately” — Eleanor was feeling her way with care — 
“unfortunately they had a lover’s quarrel. Cynthia 
refused to see Fred, and he finally came to me 
and asked me to arrange an interview, saying that 
he felt convinced, if given the opportunity, he could 
straighten out their misunderstanding.” 

Mrs. Truxton pondered some moments in silence. 
“Did this lover’s quarrel take place before Senator 
Carew’s death?” she asked. 

“Yes.” Eleanor’s blue eyes did not waver before 
Mrs. Truxton’s piercing look. “Why?” 

“I was just thinking that, if Senator Carew had 
known of an engagement between a member of his 
family and a Lane, he’d have died of apoplexy — 
instead of having to be stabbed to death.” 

191 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“What was the exact trouble between Senator 
Carew and Governor Lane, Cousin Kate?” asked 
Eleanor. “I never have heard.” 

“It began years ago.” Mrs. Truxton hitched her 
chair close to the bed. “Governor Lane was an 
intimate friend of Philip Winthrop, Sr., and, after 
the latter’s marriage to Charlotte Carew, came fre- 
quently to Washington to visit them. To my think- 
ing, Philip Winthrop was a bad egg, specious and 
handsome; and he took in the Carews completely, 
as well as Governor Lane. He was a stock broker 
in Wall Street, and during a panic was ruined finan- 
cially. He promptly committed suicide.” 

“Oh, poor Mrs. Winthrop!” exclaimed Eleanor 
warmly. “What hasn’t she been through!” 

“Well, losing her rascal of a husband was the 
least one of her troubles,” said Mrs. Truxton dryly. 
“Philip Winthrop’s failure was not an honorable 
one; there was talk of criminal proceedings, but 
all that was put a stop to by Senator Carew step- 
ping forward and paying his creditors.” She paused 
for breath. 

“I don’t see what Governor Lane has to do with 
it,” objected Eleanor, glancing meaningly at the 
clock, which was just striking one o’clock. She 
stifled a yawn. 


192 


A CRY IN THE NIGHT 


“I am coming to that,” explained Mrs. Trux- 
ton. “Philip Winthrop appealed to Governor Lane, 
among other of his old friends, to loan him money 
to tide over the financial crisis, and the Gov- 
ernor trusted him to the extent of ten thousand 
dollars.” 

“That was exceedingly generous of him.” 

“Yes, and I reckon he repented of his generosity 
many times.” Mrs. Truxton spoke with emphasis. 
“He loaned it to Winthrop without taking security 
and without knowing that the latter was on the point 
of absolute failure. And this is where the row 
comes in. Lane went to Carew and told him of 
the transaction, showed him the canceled check, 
and the latter, on finding that Lane had no prom- 
issory note or other security, declined to pay off the 
indebtedness.” 

“I see.” Eleanor was paying full attention to 
the older woman. 

“Lane was naturally incensed, for Carew had 
assumed all the other obligations, and he felt that 
his was a prior claim, being a debt of honor be- 
tween friends. Carew didn’t see it that way, and it 
led to a bitter quarrel. The ill feeling between the 
two men was intensified on Governor Lane’s part 
because he met with financial reverses later, and the 
193 


THE MAN INSIDE 


old Maryland homestead, which might have been 
saved by the return of the ten thousand dollars, was 
sold under the hammer.” 

“This is all news to me. I was only told they 
were political enemies.” 

“They were. Lane vowed to get even in every 
way in his power, and so entered politics. He was 
a man of great force of character and intellectual 
ability — although lacking in business sense,” she 
interpolated, “and a born orator. And when he 
found, after holding several important state posi- 
tions, that Senator Carew was going to run for 
governor of Maryland, he entered the field 
against him, and Carew was beaten by a few votes 
only.” 

“When did this happen?” 

“Oh, back in the early nineties. The Quarrel was 
most acrimonious, particularly on Carew’s side. He 
must have realized that he had not acted fairly to 
his old friend. As long as he had assumed Win- 
throp’s debts it seemed only right that he should 
return the money owing to Lane. Public opinion 
was with the latter.” 

“Perhaps at that time he may not have had the 
ten thousand,” suggested Eleanor. “I have always 
heard and believed the Senator an honorable man; 

194 


A CRY IN THE NIGHT 


and certainly it was good of him to shoulder any 
of his brother-in-law’s debts.” 

“He only did it to protect his sister, who was 
left penniless, and quiet scandal.” 

“Mrs. Winthrop penniless! Why, how comes it, 
Cousin Kate, that she lives as she does.” 

“Senator Carew gave her a large allowance. He 
always said that Cynthia should inherit his fortune.” 

“I never knew until the other day that Philip 
Winthrop was not Mrs. Winthrop’s son.” 

“She adopted him legally, I believe, at the time 
of her husband’s death, and persuaded her brother, 
the Senator, to have him brought up as one of the 
family. Philip Winthrop’s first wife was a South 
American, I am told. I never saw her, as she died 
before he came to Washington. Mercy on us!” 
glancing at the clock, “I had no idea it was so late.” 
She rose and started for the door. “How did you 
leave Cynthia?” 

“Sound asleep, thank Heaven!” 

“Did she and Fred Lane patch up their quar- 
rel?” 

“I am afraid not.” Eleanor kissed her cousin 
a warm good night, and watched her cross the wide 
hall to her bedroom, then closed and locked her 
own door and hastened to complete her undressing. 
195 


THE MAN INSIDE 


About three in the morning Cynthia awoke and 
lay for a few minutes, bewildered by her surround- 
ings. Then recollection returned to her with a rush, 
and she sank back among her pillows with a half- 
strangled sob. Slowly she reviewed her interview 
with Fred, trying to find some solace; but she could 
discover none, and with a moan turned on her side 
and buried her face in the pillow. Their romance 
had promised so much, but, instead, her happiness 
had been nipped in the bud. 

She raised her hot face and glanced about, look- 
ing for a glass of water, for she was parched with 
thirst. Eleanor had forgotten, apparently, to place 
any drinking water in the room. Cynthia sat up 
and gazed eagerly around by the aid of the night 
light, but she could discover no glass on either the 
chiffonier or bureau. She was on the point of 
lying down again when she remembered having 
seen a pitcher of ice water on a table near the head 
of the stairs. She started to ring the brass bell, 
but decided it would be cruel to call Eleanor, who 
had been up with her most of the night. 

She pondered a moment, but she was growing 
more thirsty, and, after a few minutes of indecision, 
she climbed out of the huge four-poster and, slip- 
ping on a wrapper and bedroom slippers, stole out 
196 


A CRY IN THE NIGHT 


of her room and down the hall in the direction of 
the stairs. 

So intent was Cynthia in reaching her goal that 
she never noticed a figure crouching on the landing 
of the stairs, who drew back fearfully into the 
shadows at her approach. She found the ice pitcher 
on the table with several glasses. Filling one of 

them, she took a long drink of the ice-cold water, 

then, feeling much refreshed, she refilled the glass, 
intending to take it with her to her room. She 
paused again and looked about her with interest, 
for the hall was illuminated by the moonlight which 
streamed through the diamond-shaped panes of a 
window at one end of a wing of the house. The 
figure below her on the stair landing peered at her 
intently, poised for instant flight to the darker re- 
gions below in case she started to descend the stairs. 

Cynthia was about to return to her room when 
her roving eyes fell on a closed door leading to a 
room in the wing. The moonlight was beating upon 
it. For one long second Cynthia stood transfixed; 
then she uttered a cry which roused the sleeping 
household — a cry of such terror that it froze the 
blood in the listeners’ veins. 

The figure on the landing stood glued to the spot 
until recalled to action by the hurried opening of 
197 


THE MAN INSIDE 


doors; then, with incredible swiftness, it vanished, 
as Eleanor, her hastily donned wrapper streaming 
in the wind, rushed to Cynthia’s side. 

“Good God! Cynthia! What is it?” she gasped, 
throwing her arms about her friend. 

Cynthia caught her wrist in a grip which made 
her wince. “Look!” she cried. “Look!” point- 
ing toward the door at the end of the wing. 
“My dream! See, the panels are in the shape of a 
cross !” 

Eleanor cast a startled glance in the direction in- 
dicated. It was true. The panels stood out in bold 
relief in the brilliant moonlight, and they formed an 
unmistakable cross. 

“Yes, yes, dear,” she said soothingly. “It simply 
shows that your dream was founded on fact. Come 
to bed.” 

“No, no!” Cynthia was trembling violently, but 
she refused to leave the spot. “You forget that in 
my dream the door is always locked.” 

“In this case it is not,” exclaimed Colonel Thorn- 
ton, who, with Douglas, had rushed into the hall as 
soon as they had struggled into some clothes. Mrs. 
Truxton brought up the rear, her curl papers stand- 
ing upright and her eyes almost popping from her 
head. “It’s simply used as a storeroom,” he added. 
198 


A CRY IN THE NIGHT 


“Don’t be so worried, Cynthia,” catching sight of 
her agonized face. 

“I tell you it is not!” She stamped her foot in 
her excitement. 

For answer Thornton stepped down the short 
hallway and turned the knob. To his intense sur- 
prise the door did not open. 

“Ah!” Her cry was half in triumph, half in 
agony. “I told you it was locked. It must be 
opened — I shall go mad if it is not,” and her looks 
did not belie her statement. 

Douglas joined Thornton as he stood hesitating. 
“I think it would be best to humor her,” he said in 
an undertone. 

Thornton nodded in agreement. “I can’t under- 
stand how it got locked,” he muttered. “How the 
devil can I get it open? It is English quartered 
oak.” 

“Is there any way of entering the room by a win- 
dow?” asked Douglas. 

“No, it’s too high from the ground, and there’s 
nothing but the bare brick wall to climb up ; no tree 
grows near it,” said Thornton thoughtfully. “And 
unfortunately I have no ladder long enough to reach 
the window.” 

“Then there’s nothing left but to try and force 
199 


THE MAN INSIDE 


the door.” Douglas braced his powerful shoulders 
against the panels until his muscles almost cracked 
under the strain. “Run against it,” he gasped, per- 
spiration trickling down his face; and Colonel 
Thornton obediently threw himself forward as the 
door gave slightly. “Again!” cried Douglas, and 
he threw his own weight on the panel, which yielded 
a little. “Once more,” and with a rending crash 
the upper and weaker panel splintered sufficiently 
to allow Douglas to slip his hand inside and turn 
the key which was in the lock. He also shot back 
the rusty bolt with difficulty, and withdrew his 
hand. 

“Get the women back into their rooms,” he 
whispered, his face showing white in the moonlight. 
“The room is full of escaping gas.” 

Thornton gazed blankly at him for a second, 
then turned to Mrs. Truxton. “Kate, I insist upon 
your taking these girls to your room.” She nodded 
understandingly, and he turned to Cynthia with an 
air of command. “Go with Mrs. Truxton, Cyn- 
thia. I promise to come instantly and tell you what 
we discover in this room.” 

She nodded dumbly, past speech. The reaction 
had come, and Mrs. Truxton and Eleanor led her, 
unresisting, back to her room and helped her to bed, 


200 


A CRY IN THE NIGHT 


where she lay, her eyes pleading to be relieved from 
her mental anguish. 

Colonel Thornton and Douglas watched them 
until they disappeared inside the bedroom, then the 
latter opened the broken door of the locked room. 
An overpowering smell of illuminating gas choked 
them, and they drew back, gasping. Douglas 
stepped over .to the hall window and threw up the 
sash, letting in the cool air. Then, holding his 
breath, he rushed inside the room and, locating the 
escaping gas jet by the overpowering odor, he 
reached up and turned off the cock of the wall 
bracket. 

“It’s no use; we’ll have to wait and give the gas 
a chance to evaporate,” he said, returning to the 
Colonel’s side. “Are you sure the room is unoc- 
cupied?” 

Thornton’s eyes were half starting from his head. 
“Unoccupied?” he stammered. “It’s been unoccu- 
pied for half a century. This is the southwest 
chamber, which is supposed to be haunted by my 
great-aunt. A dog won’t sleep there.” 

Douglas stared at his companion in amazement 
for some seconds, then, holding his breath, again 
bolted into the room. The remaining gas almost 
overcame him, but fortunately, catching sight of the 


201 


THE MAN INSIDE 


outlines of the windows, he opened first one and 
then the other, and rejoined the Colonel, who was 
hovering in the doorway, as quickly as possible. 
Without speaking they waited until the pure night 
air had swept away the poisonous gas; then Doug- 
las stepped inside the room, struck a match and 
applied it to the chandelier. As the light flared up 
a horrified exclamation escaped Thornton. 

“Good God! Look!” 

Douglas’ eyes followed his outstretched arm. 
Stretched on the high four-posted bedstead was the 
body of a woman, lying on her side, her face con- 
cealed by the masses of dark hair which fell over it. 
A book lay by her side, one finger of her left hand 
caught between the pages. A drop light, minus 
shade and chimney, stood on a low table beside the 
bed. 

Reverently the two men tiptoed to the bedside. 
Thornton laid a shaking hand on the drop light. 
“She must have been reading and fallen asleep,” he 
muttered between twitching lips. “She didn’t know 
that the light is always blown out after eleven 
o’clock in this room.” 

Awestruck, Douglas gazed down at the silent 
figure. No need to feel pulse or heart; to the most 
casual observer the woman was dead. 


202 


A CRY IN THE NIGHT 


“Who — who — is it?” demanded a quivering voice 
behind them. Both men wheeled about to find 
Eleanor, white-lipped and trembling, standing there. 
She had stolen into the room without attracting their 
attention. 

Douglas leaned forward and raised the strands 
of hair gently from the cold face. 

“Annette!” Eleanor’s trembling lips could hardly 
form the whisper; she swayed backward, and Doug- 
las caught her as she fell. 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE MYSTERY DEEPENS 

W HERE’S Brett?” asked Thornton, coming 
hurriedly into the library, where Doug- 
las was seated at the telephone. The 
latter hung up the receiver before answering. 

“He will be here directly, Colonel; at present he 
is with the doctor and coroner in the southwest 
chamber. You had better sit down, sir,” glancing 
with commiseration at Thornton’s haggard face; 
but the Colonel continued his nervous pacing to and 
fro. 

“Jove !” he muttered. “This affair has given me 
a devilish shock.” He paused before a small wall 
cabinet, and, selecting a key on his ring bunch, he 
opened the door and took out a decanter. 

“Will you join me?” he asked, placing it oh the 
table with several tumblers. 

“No, thanks, Colonel.” Douglas heard the glass 
click faintly against the mouth of the decanter as 
the Colonel poured out a liberal portion, which he 
204 


THE MYSTERY DEEPENS 


drank neat. He was just replacing the decanter 
in the wall cabinet when Brett, followed by the 
coroner, walked into the room. 

“If you have no objection, Colonel Thornton, we 
will hold an informal investigation here,” said Dr. 
Penfield, courteously. 

“Not at all, sir, not at all,” exclaimed Thornton 
heartily. “I am most anxious to have this terrible 
affair cleared up as soon as possible. Simply state 
your wishes and they will be carried out to the best 
of my ability.” 

“Thanks.” The coroner seated himself at the 
mahogany table standing in the center of the room 
and drew out his notebook and fountain pen, while 
Brett established himself on the opposite side. 

“Shall I retire?” inquired the Colonel. 

“I think it would be best,” replied Dr. Penfield 
gravely. “I prefer to examine the members of 
the household separately. No offense is intend- 
ed.” 

“And none is taken.” Thornton smiled wearily. 
“You forget I’m a lawyer, Doctor, and understand 
your position. If you wish to see me I will be in 
my room.” 

“All right, Colonel.” The coroner consulted his 
notebook as Thornton left them, then turned to 
205 


THE MAN INSIDE 


Douglas. “You were the first to enter the southwest 
chamber, were you not?” 

“Yes, I broke in a panel of the door with Colonel 
Thornton’s assistance, and ” 

“One moment.” Penfield held up his hand. “Was 
the door locked on the inside ?” 

“Yes, by an old-fashioned bolt, as well as by lock 
and key.” 

“Did the bolt and lock work stiffly?” 

“They did.” 

“In your opinion would a person locking the 
door and shooting the bolt into place make enough 
noise to awaken the sleeper?” 

“I think so, yes.” 

“Did you find the windows of the room also 
bolted when you entered?” 

“No, they were closed, but the bolts, similar to the 
one on the door, only smaller, were not fastened.” 

“I see.” Penfield drummed on the table for a 
moment with his left hand. “Could anyone have 
slipped past you and Colonel Thornton when you 
stood waiting in the hallway for the gas to evapor- 
ate?” 

“No, we would have been sure to see them, and, 
besides, no one could have remained in that room 
alive, the escaping gas was overpowering.” 

206 


THE MYSTERY DEEPENS 


“Did the room have no other exit except the one 
door leading to the hall?” 

“That is all I could discover. I searched the 
room thoroughly with Brett.” The detective nodded 
affirmatively. “We could find no trace of any other 
entrance or exit.” 

“Strange !” exclaimed Penfield. “The windows 
are too great a height from the ground, and can 
only be reached by a scaling ladder.” 

“And beside that,” put in Brett, “I’ve examined 
the ground under and near the two windows of that 
room, and there isn’t a trace of a footstep or ladder 
anywhere around.” 

The coroner laid down his pen. “I think that 
is all just now, Mr. Hunter. Brett, will you ask Dr. 
Marsh to step here.” 

The two men left the room. “I’ll wait in the 
drawing-room, Brett,” called Douglas, as the de- 
tective started upstairs to find the doctor. In a 
few minutes Brett reappeared in the library with 
Dr. Marsh. 

“I won’t detain you long, doctor,” began Pen- 
field. “Be seated. You were the first to examine 
the dead woman upstairs ; what do you think caused 
her death?” 

“She was asphyxiated by illuminating gas. Every 
207 


THE MAN INSIDE 


symptom points to that. Of course,” added the 
doctor cautiously, “this cannot be proved absolutely 
until the autopsy is held.” 

“I think you are right; my diagnosis coincides 
with yours,” said the coroner. “Did you discover 
any evidence of a struggle or marks of violence 
about the woman’s person?” 

“No. Judging from what I found, and I believe 
nothing had been disturbed by either Colonel Thorn- 
ton or Mr. Hunter, I think that the Frenchwoman 
was reading in bed, fell asleep, and was overcome 
by the gas.” 

“How long do you think she had been dead be- 
fore you reached her?” 

“Several hours, judging from the condition of 
the body. She was lying in such a position that 
she got the full force of the gas directly in her 
face; the room did not have to become filled 
with the deadly fumes before she was affected by 
them.” 

“I noticed that,” exclaimed the coroner, “the 
drop-light stood on a low stand, so that the gas 
fixture was on a level with the woman’s head, as the 
four-poster bed was an unusually high one. I have 
no further questions to ask just now, Doctor; an 
autopsy will be held this afternoon at the city 
208 


THE MYSTERY DEEPENS 


morgue, where the body will be taken shortly. 
Brett, ask Miss Cynthia Carew to come here.” 

Doctor Marsh stopped on his way to the door. 
“I have just given Miss Carew an opiate,” he said 
quickly; “she must not be disturbed at present.” 

The coroner’s face fell. “That’s too bad,” he 
grumbled. “I particularly wanted to ask what she 
was doing in the hall at that hour, and what drew 
her attention to the closed door.” 

“As it happens, I can answer those two ques- 
tions.” Marsh returned to the table. “Before I 
could quiet Miss Carew she repeated her experi- 
ences a dozen times. It seems that she was thirsty 
and went into the hall to get a glass of water, as 
she recollected seeing an ice pitcher and tumblers 
on the hall table near the stairs. She drank some 
water, and was returning when she noticed the door 
in the moonlight, dropped the glass she was carry- 
ing, and screamed.” 

“I found a broken glass lying in the hall,” sup- 
plemented Brett. 

“What was it about the door that caused her to 
scream?” asked the coroner. 

“The panels, which are made in the shape of a 
cross,” explained Doctor Marsh. “It seems that 
Miss Carew apparently suffers from nightmare 
209 


THE MAN INSIDE 


which takes the form of a door with panels of that 
shape. She declares it always foretells disaster. 
When she found such a door confronting her in the 
ghostly moonlight it was too much for her nerves 
and she screamed.” 

“What is all this I am told about the southwest 
chamber being haunted?” 

Marsh shrugged his shoulders. “I have resided 
all my life in Georgetown and have always heard 
that a room in this house was supposed to be 
haunted. That particular kind of door with the 
panels forming a cross is called the ‘witches’ door,’ 
and was put there in the days just after the Revo- 
lution. It is to ward off evil, so the legend goes.” 

“Well, it doesn’t seem to have fulfilled its mis- 
sion.” The coroner carefully turned a page in his 
notebook and made an entry. “I am very much 
obliged to you, Doctor,” as Marsh prepared to de- 
part. “I wish you would let me know when Miss 
Carew is in fit condition to see me.” 

“I will; good-bye,” and the busy physician beat a 
hasty retreat. 

“Suppose you get the butler, Brett,” said the coro- 
ner when the two men were alone. 

“May I suggest, Dr. Penfield, that you allow Mr. 
Hunter to be present when the servants are ex- 


210 


THE MYSTERY DEEPENS 


amined,” began Brett. “He is deeply interested in 
the murder of Senator Carew, and is assisting me in 
trying to unravel that mystery, and I think” — de- 
liberately — “this French maid’s singular death has 
something to do with the other tragedy.” 

“Indeed!” The coroner’s eyes kindled with 
fresh interest. “Certainly, Brett, if you think Mr. 
Hunter should be present, call him in. I will be glad 
of his assistance.” 

The detective hastened out of the room, to return 
within a few minutes with Douglas and Nicodemus. 
The old darky was gray with fright, and his eyes 
had not regained their natural size since being awak- 
ened by the commotion attending the breaking in of 
the door. He had lain in his bed, too frightened 
to get up, until Douglas entered his room and 
hauled him out from under the bedclothes and made 
him go downstairs and build the fire for the cook, 
Sophy, who was more composed than her brother, 
and busied herself in preparing coffee and an early 
breakfast for those who desired it. 

“Is there such a thing as a long scaling ladder 
on the premises?” inquired the coroner, after he 
had asked Nicodemus’ full name and length of ser- 
vice. 

“No, suh; dey isn’t, only a pa’r ob steps so high” 


2 1 1 


THE MAN INSIDE 


—demonstrating with his hand. “Dat’s der onliest 
one on de place.” 

“Is any house being built in this neighborhood?” 

“No, suh, dar isn’t.” 

“How did you come to put the maid in that 
room?” 

“I didn’t put her dar,” in quick defence ; “she went 
dar ob her own accord; ’deed dat’s so, Marse Doug- 
las,” appealing to him directly. “De Cunnel, he 
done tole Sophy an’ me ter fix three rooms fo’ de 
ladies, an’ a room fo’ yo’, suh; he done say miffin’ 
about de maid, Annette.” 

“Then you were not expecting her?” 

“No, suh. I was ’sprised when Miss Eleanor 
brunged her. After I haid shown de ladies ter dey 
rooms I took Annette up ter de third flo’, an’ tole 
her she could take de front room dar.” 

“Then how did she come to be occupying the 
other room?” asked the coroner quickly. 

“It were dis-away, suh; jes’ befo’ dinnah she cum 
ter me an’ Sophy an’ say she doan like de room in 
de third flo’ ” 

“Why not?” broke in Penfield. 

“She said it were too far off from her folks, dat 
she had to be down whar she could hear dem. I 
tole her dat de warn’t no room down on de second 


212 


THE MYSTERY DEEPENS 


flo\ dat dey was all occupied, an’ she says, quick- 
like, dat she had jes’ been in de room in de wing, 
an’ dat she’d sleep dar.” 

“Ah, then it was her own suggestion that she 
should occupy the room,” exclaimed Brett quickly. 

“Yessir. She dun say dat de bed looked comfo’- 
ble, an’ dat she’d jes’ take de bedclothes offer de 
bed in de room on de third flo’, an’ move her things 
down inter de odder room. Sophy tole her dat de 
place were mighty dusty, ’cause it’s been used as a 
storeroom, but Annette said she’d ’tend ter dat.” 

“Did she speak to Colonel Thornton or to Miss 
Eleanor before moving into the room?” asked 
Douglas, thoughtfully. 

“No, suh, I don’t think she did. I axed her ef 
she had, an’ she said dat dey was all in de drawin’- 
room, waitin’ fer dinneh, an’ dat she didn’t want 
ter ’sturb ’em, an’ dat dey wouldn’t care whar she 
slep’.” 

“Then no one knew she was occupying that 
room except you and Sophy?” asked the puzzled 
coroner. 

“No, suh; ’less she tole dem later. I done 
warned her dat dat room were unlucky,” — Nico- 
demus’ eyes rolled in his head, — “an’ dat no good 
would cum ob her sleepin’ dar, an’ she jes’ larf and 
213 


THE MAN INSIDE 


larf. An’ now she’s daid,” — he shook his woolly 
head solemnly; “it doan do ter trifle wid 
ghosts.” 

“I won’t keep you any longer,” said the coroner, 
after a long pause. “Send Sophy up here, Nicode- 
mus. “By the way, is she any relation of yours?” 

“Yessir, she’s ma sister, an’ we’ve bof worked 
hyar since befo de wah. I’ll send her right up, 
suh,” and he disappeared. 

Sophy was not long in coming, and she confirmed 
all that Nicodemus had said. She added that the 
southwest chamber had not been occupied as a bed- 
chamber for years, although the four-poster was 
left standing with its mattresses and pillows in place, 
after which she was excused. Colonel Thornton 
was then sent for by the coroner. 

“Your servants say, Colonel, that you did not 
expect your niece to bring her French maid, An- 
nette, with her last night,” began Penfield. “Is 
that so?” 

“My niece is at liberty to bring anyone,” with 
emphasis, “to this house,” said Colonel Thornton. 
“But I must admit that I did not know until just 
as dinner was announced that the maid had accom- 
panied her.” 

“Did you not see them arrive?” asked Brett. 

214 


THE MYSTERY DEEPENS 


“No, they came earlier than I anticipated, and I 
was not in the house when they reached here.” 

“Did Nicodemus inform you that the maid was 
here?” 

“No; why should he? He knows that this is 
my niece’s second home, and that she is virtually 
mistress of the house.” 

“Then your niece is thoroughly acquainted with 
this building?” put in Brett. 

“Haven’t I just said so,”— impatiently. “Miss 
Thornton brought her maid with her because she 
knows I have but two old servants, enough for my 
bachelor needs, but she very naturally considered 
that my other guests, Mrs. Truxton and Miss 
Carew, might desire a maid’s services.” 

“I understand. Were you aware that Annette 
intended to sleep in the southwest chamber?” con- 
tinued Brett. 

“I was not. If I had known it I would not have 
permitted her to occupy the room.” 

“Please tell me the exact superstition which 
hangs about that room,” said the coroner, after a 
brief pause. 

“It is believed that no light can be burned in that 
room after eleven o’clock; after that time it is al- 
ways extinguished by some mysterious agency.” 

21 5 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“How comes it, then, that you allowed gas pipes 
to be placed in the room?” 

“I gave the contract to have gas put in the house 
years ago, at the same time that I had running 
water and plumbing installed. The gas contractor 
naturally fitted each room with modern appliances. 
As the room is never used after dark, I never gave 
the matter another thought.” 

“Then why was a drop-light fastened to the wall 
bracket by the side of the bed?” 

“I’ve been puzzling over that fact myself,” — the 
Colonel tipped his chair back on two legs, — “that 
drop-light is one I used to have in my bedroom. It 
didn’t give very satisfactory light to read by, so 
several months ago I purchased another, transferred 
the chimney and shade to the new lamp, and sent the 
other one into the storeroom.” 

“Then it is highly probable that Annette found 
it there, and, wishing to read in bed, attached it to 
the bracket herself.” 

“And thereby sealed her own fate,” added the 
Colonel solemnly. 

“Do you really think that supernatural means 
caused her death?” asked the coroner incredu- 
lously. 

“It seems to be either that or suicide.” 

216 


THE MYSTERY DEEPENS 

“From what I hear I incline to the latter 
theory,” acknowledged Dr. Penfield. “I don’t take 
much stock in ghosts or other hallucinations, Colo- 
nel, with all due respect to you, sir. Will you be so 
kind as to ask your cousin, Mrs. Truxton, to step 
here for a few minutes?” 

On being summoned by Colonel Thornton, Mrs. 
Truxton hastened into the library. Her statements 
added nothing to what the coroner already knew, 
and she was quickly excused and Eleanor Thornton 
sent for. 

Douglas had not seen her since carrying her to 
her room some hours before, and he was shocked 
by her appearance. “My precious darling!” he 
murmured in a tone which reached her ear alone as 
he opened the library door to admit her. “Is there 
anything I can do for you?” 

She shook her head and smiled at him, a smile 
which hurt him woefully, for it showed the effort it 
cost her. Dr. Penfield, struck by her beauty, which 
was enhanced by her unnaturally flushed cheeks and 
the dark shadows under her large eyes, rose and 
pulled forward a chair for her use. 

“I won’t detain you long, Miss Thornton,” he 
commenced, reseating himself. “Did you know your 
maid was sleeping in the southwest chamber?” 

217 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“No, I did not. On the contrary, she told me, 
when helping me change my dress for dinner, that 
she had been put in the room over mine.” 

“When did you last see your maid?” 

“She came to my assistance when Miss Carew 
fainted, shortly after dinner. After I had seen 
Miss Carew revived and put in bed I had Annette 
help me out of my evening dress, and then told her 
to go to bed, as I would not require her services 
any longer.” 

“At what hour was that?” 

“Shortly before ten o’clock. I do not recollect 
the exact time.” 

“Did she say nothing to you then about having 
moved down on your floor?” 

“Not a word.” 

“Has your maid had an unfortunate love affair?” 
inquired the coroner. 

“Not to my knowledge.” 

“Has she been despondent of late?” 

“No; she seemed in her usual good spirits.” 

“Do you know if she had lost money?” 

“I never heard her mention such a thing.” 

“Has she been with you long?” 

“About two years.” 

“And you found her ?” 

218 


THE MYSTERY DEEPENS 


“Excellent in every way; honest, reliable, and 
capable.” 

“Miss Thornton,” facing her directly, “have you 
formed any theory as to how your maid came to be 
asphyxiated?” 

“I think it was due to an accident. She probably 
fell asleep, leaving the gas burning.” 

“But Mr. Hunter found the two windows closed, 
no possible draft could get into the room to blow 
out the light — nor could any person have blown it 
out, for the door, the only way of entrance, was 
locked on the inside. How was it possible to have 
an accident under those circumstances?” 

“Possibly it was suicide, though I cannot bear to 
think so,” Eleanor spoke with much feeling. 

“Miss Thornton,” — Brett rose, walked over to 
the table, and stood looking directly down into the 
lovely face raised so confidingly to his — “did your 
maid ever utter any threats against Captain Fred- 
erick Lane in your presence?” 

“Never!” Eleanor’s eyes opened in surprise. 

“Did she ever insinuate that he had something 
to do with the murder of Senator Carew?” 

“No, never!” But Eleanor’s firm voice quivered 
as she uttered the denial, and Brett detected it. His 
eyes lighted with excitement. 

219 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“What was Captain Lane doing here last night?” 

The question was unexpected, and Eleanor started 
perceptibly. 

“He came to see Miss Carew,” she admitted, 
faintly. 

“Did he see your maid?” 

“Not to my knowledge.” 

“Did Captain Lane spend the evening with you 
and Colonel Thornton?” 

“Oh, no, he only saw Miss Carew.” 

“How long was he with Miss Carew?” 

“About ten minutes.” 

“Indeed!” Brett paused and spoke with greater 
deliberation. “Captain Lane, who is being shad- 
owed by several of my men, was seen to enter this 
house last night between nine and half-past — and, 
though my men waited all night, he was never seen 
to leave it.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


IN THE NAME OF THE LAW 

W ELL, and what then?” demanded a curt 
voice behind the group. The three men 
and Eleanor wheeled around and gazed 
at the young officer in surprise too deep for words. 
“Well, what then?” demanded Captain Lane for the 
second time. 

“How did you get here?” asked Brett, recover- 
ing from his surprise. 

“Through the door. How did you suppose?” 
with a flicker of amusement in his handsome eyes. 
“The butler told me I would find you here when he 
admitted me a few seconds ago.” Then his face 
grew stern. “I entered in time to overhear your 
remark,” — turning directly to Brett. “Because your 
men did not see me leave the house it doesn’t follow 
that I spent the night here.” 

“Then where did you spend it?” asked Brett 
swiftly. 


221 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“With my cousin, General Phillips, at his apart- 
ment at the Dupont,” calmly. 

“At what hour did you reach his apartment?” 

“About twelve o’clock.” 

“And where were you between the hours of nine- 
thirty and twelve?” 

“Most of the time walking the streets.” 

“Alone?” 

“Alone.” Lane faced them all, head up and 
shoulders back, and gave no sign that he was aware 
of the antagonism which he felt in the tense at- 
mosphere. The coroner was the next to speak. 

“Suppose you take a chair, Captain Lane, and 
give us a more detailed account of your actions last 
night,” he suggested, and Lane dragged forward a 
chair and seated himself. “When did you leave 
this house?” 

“About half-past ten o’clock.” He caught Elean- 
nor’s start of surprise, and added hastily, “I am, as 
perhaps you already know, engaged to Miss Carew. 
During our interview last night she fainted, and I 
summoned Miss Thornton, who urged me to go, but 
I felt that I could not leave the house until I knew 
that Miss Carew was better. So, instead of going 
out of the front door, I picked up my coat and hat 
and slipped into the dining room, which was empty.” 

222 


IN THE NAME OF THE LAW 


“What was your object in going there?” 

“I hoped that Miss Thornton would come down- 
stairs again, and I could then get an opportunity to 
speak to her.” 

“Would it not have been better and more straight- 
forward to have stepped into the library and in- 
formed Colonel Thornton of your presence in his 
house?” asked the coroner, dryly. 

Lane flushed at his tone. “Possibly it would,” — 
haughtily, — “but I was acting on impulse; I was 
extremely alarmed by Miss Carew’s condition and 
could think of nothing else.” 

“What caused Miss Carew’s indisposition?” in- 
quired the coroner. 

“She is not strong, and overtaxed her strength 
yesterday.” 

The coroner did not press the point, to Lane’s 
relief. “Did anyone see you in the dining room last 
night?” 

“I think not; the room was not lighted, and the 
table had been already cleared, so no servant en- 
tered the room.” 

“Did you see Miss Thornton again?” 

“No. I had not been waiting long before I saw 
Colonel Thornton come down the stairs with a man 
whom I judged to be a physician. As they passed 
223 


THE MAN INSIDE 


the dining room door I heard the doctor tell Colo- 
nel Thornton that Miss Carew had regained con- 
sciousness, and would be all right after a night’s 
rest. A few minutes after that I left the house.” 
“How?” 

“I have dined frequently with Colonel Thornton 
and know the house fairly well; so, as I had prom- 
ised to keep my visit to Miss Carew a secret, I 
opened the long French window which gives on the 
south veranda, ran down the steps, and walked down 
the garden path, jumped the fence between this 
property and the next, and walked out of their gate 
into the street.” 

Brett said something under his breath that was 
not complimentary to his detective force. “May I 
ask you why you thought such precautions neces- 
sary?” he inquired. 

“Because I was perfectly aware that I had been 
followed over here,” retorted Lane calmly. “And, 
as I considered it nobody’s business but my own if 
I chose to call on Miss Carew, I decided to avoid 
them.” 

“And what did you and Annette, Miss Thornton’s 
French maid, discuss before you left here?” Brett 
rose to his feet and confronted Lane squarely as 
he put the question. 


224 


IN THE NAME OF THE LAW 


“I did not speak to anyone except Miss Carew 
and Miss Thornton while in this house,” — steadily. 

“No? Then perhaps you only saw the maid, 
Annette, when she was asleep ?” — with emphasis. 

“I don’t catch your meaning?” Lane tapped his 
foot nervously with his swagger stick. 

“Listen to me, Captain Lane,” — Brett dropped 
back in his chair and emphasized his remarks by 
frequent taps on the table with his left hand. “You 
can’t dodge the issue with fake testimony.” 

“I am dodging nothing!” Lane’s eyes flashed 
ominously and his voice deepened, the voice of a 
born fighter, accustomed to command. “I have no 
testimony to fake.” 

“I suppose you will say next,” — sarcastically, — 
“that you don’t know the maid, Annette, is dead.” 

“Dead?” echoed Lane, bounding from his chair. 

“Dead — murdered last night.” 

“Good God!” There was no mistaking Lane’s 
agitation and surprise. Brett watched him closely; 
if he was acting, it was a perfect performance. 
“How — what killed her?” 

“Asphyxiated by illuminating gas,” — briefly, — 
“when asleep last night.” 

“This is horrible!” Lane paced the floor in un- 
controllable excitement. “But what,” pulling him- 
225 


THE MAN INSIDE 


self up, “what has that unfortunate girl’s death to 
do with me?” 

“What had you to do with the unfortunate girl’s 
death is more to the point,” retorted Brett mean- 
ingly, and Lane recoiled. 

“By God; I’ll not stand such an insinuation!” 
He made a threatening step toward Brett, who did 
not move. “Are you such a fool as to imagine be- 
cause I was in this house for a short time last night 
that I killed a servant whom I had seen occasionally 
when she opened the door for me on my calling at 
Miss Thornton’s residence?” 

“I am not a fool, nor am I a believer in miracles.” 
Brett grew cool as Lane’s excitement rose. “I was 
to have seen Annette this morning to get sworn 
testimony which she said would implicate you in 
Senator Carew’s murder.” Lane staggered back, 
appalled. “Instead, I find her dead, under mys- 
terious circumstances; you are the only person 
whom her death benefits. And you were in this 
house, unknown to the inmates, and, by your own 
admission, no one saw you leave it. It is stretching 
the probabilities to suppose her death was a coinci- 
dence. You, and you alone,” — his voice rang out 
clearly, — “had the motive and the opportunity to 
bring about her death.” 


226 


IN THE NAME OF THE LAW 


“I deny it — deny it absolutely !” thundered Lane, 
his knuckles showing white, so tightly were his 
fingers clenched over his swagger stick, which he 
raised threateningly. 

“Stop, Mr. Brett!” exclaimed Eleanor, who, with 
Douglas and the coroner, had sat too astounded 
to speak during the rapid colloquy between the two 
men. “You forget that the door to the southwest 
chamber occupied by Annette was locked on the 
inside , and that door was the only means of enter- 
ing the room. It is only fair to you, Captain Lane,” 
— turning courteously to the young officer, — “to re- 
mind Mr. Brett of the very obvious fact that no one 
could have entered the sleeping woman’s room, 
blown out the light, and, on leaving the room, 
locked and bolted the door on the inside, leaving 
the key in the lock.” 

“Thanks,” exclaimed Lane gratefully, as he sat 
down and wiped the perspiration from his white 
face. 

Brett scowled. He had hoped that his summing 
up of damaging facts and sudden accusation might 
wring a confession from Lane, or, if not that, some 
slip of the tongue which the other might make in 
his agitation might give him a clew as to how the 
murder was committed. He was convinced of Lane’s 
227 




THE MAN INSIDE 


guilt. He glanced angrily at Eleanor. Why had 
she intervened? Long and silently he gazed at the 
beautiful face. The broad forehead, delicately 
arched eyebrows, and the large wistful eyes, shaded 
by long curling eyelashes, and finely chiseled features 
were well worth looking at; but Brett did not see 
them — a new problem was puzzling his active 
brain. 

“I understood you to say, Captain Lane, that 
you had promised to keep your visit here a secret,’’ 
he said, breaking into the conversation of the others. 
“To whom did you make such a promise?” 

“To Miss Thornton.” The question was unex- 
pected, and the answer slipped out thoughtlessly; 
then Lane bit his lip as he caught Eleanor’s warning 
glance too late. 

Brett turned swiftly on Eleanor. “Why did you 
wish him to keep his visit here a secret, Miss Thorn- 
ton?” 

“Because I was afraid Mrs. Winthrop would hear 
that Captain Lane and her niece had met here; 
my uncle might inadvertently mention it to her. 
Mrs. Winthrop does not approve of Captain Lane’s 
attentions to Miss Carew,” explained Eleanor 
quietly. 

“On what grounds?” — quickly. 

228 


IN THE NAME OF THE LAW 


“Ask Mrs. Winthrop; she can tell you better 
than I.” 

“I will,” grimly. “Captain Lane,” wheeling 
around, “why have you returned to this house at so 
early an hour in the morning?” 

“I came to inquire for Miss Carew. I asked to 
see Miss Thornton, and the butler showed me into 
this room. And this is the first opportunity I have 
had, Miss Eleanor, to ask you how Cynthia is this 
morning.” His face betrayed his anxiety. 

“She is asleep just now,” answered Eleanor, “but 
I hope she will be much better when she wakes up. 
I will tell her that you have called.” 

“Thanks.” Lane rose. He felt that he was dis- 
missed. “Has Cynthia been told of Annette’s 
death?” 

“Not yet. We explained the breaking in of the 
door of the southwest chamber by saying that Nico- 
demus had locked it and neglected to tell Colonel 
Thornton, who had it forced open.” 

“I understand.” Lane shook hands with her 
warmly. “Will you please telephone me how Cyn- 
thia is. I’ll be at the Army and Navy Club all day. 
Good morning.” He bowed formally to the coroner 
and Douglas, then turned to leave the room, only 
to find his exit barred by Brett. 

229 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“It is my duty to inform you, Captain Lane, that 
a warrant has been sworn out for your arrest,” he 
announced, taking a paper from his pocket. 

Lane stepped back involuntarily. “What do you 
mean?” he stammered. 

“In the name of the law I arrest you for the 
murder of Senator Carew.” Brett ceased speaking 
and signaled to several men who were sitting in the 
hall to enter the room. 

It was some seconds before Lane broke the 
strained silence. 

“Stand back!” he growled between clenched teeth, 
as the two detectives approached him. “I’ll go 
with you peaceably. Let me tell you, Brett,” glar- 
ing defiantly at him, “you’ll live to regret this day’s 
work! Who swore out that warrant?” 

“Mrs. Winthrop.” 

Lane gazed at him in dazed surprise. “Mrs. 
Winthrop !” he mumbled. “Mrs. Winthrop !” 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE ACCUSATION 

E LEANOR dropped her embroidery and 
gazed out into the garden, with its flower- 
beds lit by the fading rays of the Western 
sun and the soft wind from the open window 
fanned her cheeks. An involuntary sigh escaped 
her. 

“A penny for your thoughts,’’ and Douglas, who 
had approached unnoticed, stepped up to the raised 
windowseat. A loving smile curved Eleanor’s 
pretty mouth as she made room for him beside her 
and slipped her hand confidingly in his. 

“Do you think a penny would bring me any com- 
fort?” she asked. 

“Take me for a penny, and I will do my utmost 
to comfort you.” Douglas kissed her gently as she 
leaned her head against his broad shoulder. 

“Take you — gladly!” She raised her hand and 
pressed it against his cheek. “And I am richer in 
happiness than I ever was before.” 

231 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“My darling!” Douglas checked his impetuos- 
ity; the dark circles under Eleanor’s eyes had deep- 
ened and her extreme nervousness was betrayed by 
her restless glances about the room and the incessant 
movement of her fingers. “Now for your thoughts.” 

“My thoughts? They are all with Cynthia. Oh, 
Douglas!” — straightening up, — “I can’t tell her of 
Fred Lane’s arrest; on top of all she has borne it 
would be cruel, cruel!” 

“Is she better?” 

“She is at last sleeping naturally. When she 
awoke from the opiate, some hours ago, she evinced 
no interest, and so I was able to avoid the questions 
which I feared she would ask me.” 

“She was probably still under the effects of the 
opiate and too drowsy to recall the events of last 
night.” 

“I dread her awakening.” 

“You will have to put off telling her of Lane’s 
arrest and Annette’s death until she is strong enough 
physically to bear the shock.” 

“Do you think him guilty?” The question seemed 
wrung from her. 

“Of which crime?” 

“Of both.” 

“I don’t see how it is possible for him to have 
232 


THE ACCUSATION 


had anything to do with Annette’s death,” replied 
Douglas thoughtfully, “for the very reason you 
pointed out when Brett was accusing him this morn- 
ing. It would be physically impossible for him to 
have left the room and locked and bolted the door 
on the inside.” 

“What do you think caused her death?” 

“I think it highly probable that she committed 
suicide.” 

“You don’t think the draft blew out the gas?” 

“A draft? Where on earth could it come 
from? Both windows were tightly closed, and the 
door also. Upon my word,” turning to look at 
her, “you don’t place any faith in that old legend 
about the ghost — of your great-great-aunt’s habit of 
extinguishing all lights in her room after eleven 
o’clock at night?” 

“Yes, I do,” reluctantly. 

“Oh, come now,” a chuckle escaped Douglas, but 
it died out suddenly. He had remarkably keen eye- 
sight, and as he raised his head he encountered a 
steady stare from an oil portrait hanging on the 
wall opposite him. It was not the stare that at- 
tracted his attention, but the remarkable whiteness 
of the eyeballs in the painted face on which the 
light from the window was reflected. As he looked 
233 


THE MAN INSIDE 


the eyes seemed to blink, then were gone. With an 
exclamation he rose, startling Eleanor by his sud- 
den movement, and walked across the room until 
he stood directly in front of the painting, which was 
life size and represented a handsome man in a navy 
uniform of the War of 1812. On closer inspection, 
the eyes appeared not to be painted in at all, and 
were represented by shadows. As he retreated 
from the portrait, however, the shadows took form 
and he distinctly saw the long lashes and eyeballs. 
It was an optical illusion, cleverly conceived by the 
artist, and, satisfied on that point, he returned to 
Eleanor, who had watched his movements with 
growing curiosity. 

“Why this sudden interest in my great-great- 
grandfather?” she asked. 

“It’s a fine portrait.” He reseated himself by 
her side. “I didn’t notice it last night. What is 
the old gentleman’s name?” 

“Commodore Barry Thornton; my father was 
named for him. He inherited the same black hair, 
blue eyes, and tastes of that old sea-fighter,” nod- 
ding toward the portrait. “Do you know on what 
grounds they arrested Fred Lane for the murder of 
Senator Carew?” 

“Only in a general way. It is known that the 
234 



With an exclamation he rose, and walked across the room 









THE ACCUSATION 


Senator opposed his engagement to Cynthia, that 
they had a bitter quarrel that night, and that Lane 
left the ball to look for Cynthia’s carriage. He was 
gone some time, and, when the carriage did turn 
up, Senator Carew was seated in it — dead.” 

“Is that enough to convict?” 

“It’s purely circumstantial evidence,” — evasively, 
— “I don’t know yet what new testimony Mrs. Win- 
throp may have contributed to cause his arrest.” 

“Mrs. Winthrop’s attitude is incomprehensible to 
me,” burst out Eleanor. “Fred’s father, Governor 
Lane, was her husband’s best friend, and Mr. Win- 
throp was under great financial obligations to him 
when he died. And now look at the way Mrs. Win- 
throp is treating that friend’s son — hounding him to 
the gallows. Is that gratitude?” with biting scorn. 

“Some natures don’t wear well under an obliga- 
tion, and the cloven hoof crops out.” Douglas 
pushed the window farther open. “Ingratitude is 
an abominable sin, and the one most frequently com- 
mitted.” A faint knock on the hall door inter- 
rupted him. “Come in,” he called, and Brett 
opened the door. He drew back when he saw Doug- 
las was not alone. 

“Don’t go,” said Eleanor, gathering up her em- 
broidery and workbag, “I must run upstairs and ask 
235 


THE MAN INSIDE 


the nurse how Miss Carew is.” She hastened 
toward the door, which Brett still held open, but he 
stopped her on the threshold. 

“I will be greatly obliged if you will spare me 
half an hour, Miss Thornton; when you come down- 
stairs again will be time enough,” he added, as 
Eleanor stepped back into the library. 

Eleanor studied his impassive face intently for 
a second before answering, then: ‘Til be down 
again shortly,” and she disappeared up the hall. 

Brett closed the door carefully and selected a 
chair near Douglas, and sat down heavily. Douglas 
pulled out his cigarette case and handed it to the 
detective, who picked out a cigarette and, striking a 
match, settled back in his chair contentedly as he 
watched the rings of smoke curling upward. 

“I am glad of an opportunity to have a quiet 
word with you, Mr. Hunter,” he began. “Things 
have been moving pretty swiftly to-day, and I’m 
free to confess that the death of Annette has stumped 
me. Was it murder or suicide ?” 

“Everything points to suicide.” 

“I’m not so sure of that,” drawing his chair 
nearer and lowering his voice. “I’ve been searching 
Annette’s belongings and have found several things 
which puzzle me completely.” 

236 


THE ACCUSATION 


“What were they?” 

“Well, for one thing, the torn kimono.” 

“What — you don’t mean ?” 

“Exactly. Annette apparently owned a wrapper 
precisely like Miss Thornton’s, and it was she who 
paid you that midnight visit when you spent the 
night in the library on Tuesday evening at the 
Carew residence. I found the wrapper upstairs 
among her effects. She had mended the tear very 
neatly, but the slip which you tore out of it that 
night exactly fitted the darn. I had the slip with 
me in my pocket and fitted the two together.” 

“Great Scott! what on earth was she doing in 
the library at that hour?” 

“Aye, what?” significantly. “You recollect that 
Nicodemus testified that Annette did not want to 
sleep on the third floor because — ‘it wor too far off 
from her folks, an’ she had to be down whar she 
could hear dem.’ It looks as if Annette were in 
the habit of taking an unusual interest in her mis- 
tress’ affairs.” 

“It does indeed,” agreed Douglas, knocking the 
ashes from his cigarette on the window ledge. “Did 
you get any information from Annette yesterday?” 

“Very little. I saw her soon after I found your 
note telling me of her interview with Colonel 
237 


THE MAN INSIDE 


Thornton. She admitted that she had information 
which she was willing to sell, and finally made an 
appointment to see me early this morning. Thanks 
to circumstances — call it murder or suicide — I am 
no wiser than I was twenty-four hours ago.” 

“Do you still cling to the theory that she met 
her death because some one was afraid of what 
she would tell you to-day?” 

“Yes; it looks that way to me. And yet I can’t 
for the life of me discover how anyone could have 
committed a murder in that locked room.” 

“In searching the room did you discover any 
secret passages leading to it?” exclaimed Douglas. 

“I did not. I thought I might find one, so I 
tapped that entire wall, but could not find a trace 
of any concealed door. I tell you, Mr. Hunter, 
Annette did not commit suicide,” Brett spoke ear- 
nestly. “She expected to receive a large sum of 
money within a few days; I virtually pledged the 
amount to her. There was no object in her taking 
her own life.” 

“Why don’t you investigate her past, Brett? That 
might give you a clew.” 

“I have already cabled her description to the 
Paris police, asking for any information about her 
which they may have. I expect an answer shortly.” 
238 


THE ACCUSATION 


“Good. Tell me, what information did Mrs. 
Winthrop supply which induced you to arrest Cap- 
tain Lane?” 

“She told me that he had been seen on the street 
Monday night, when looking for Miss Carew’s car- 
riage, and that he was carrying a sharp letter file.” 

“Who gave her that information?” 

“She didn’t state, but I have an idea that it was 
Annette ; probably the girl wanted money and went 
to her direct, she was none too scrupulous, appar- 
ently.” 

“I believe you are right,” exclaimed Douglas. 

“Mrs. Winthrop also told me that she found, 
tucked away among her brother’s papers, yesterday 
an envelope containing a threatening letter. The 
contents were written in a disguised hand, but the 
postmark on the envelope read, ‘Lanesville, Mary- 
land.’ She is firmly convinced that, if young Lane 
didn’t write those letters himself, he instigated 
them.” 

“Oh, nonsense! He isn’t such a fool,” roughly. 
“I believe he is innocent.” 

At that moment the door opened and Colonel 
Thornton walked in. He flung his hat on the table. 
“I am glad to find you both here,” he said. “Don’t 
get up,” as Douglas rose, “I’ll take this chair. I 
239 


THE MAN INSIDE 


called you up at headquarters, Brett, but they told 
me you had just come here, so I hurried over from 
Mrs. Winthrop’s to catch you.” 

“Does she want me for anything in particular?” 
asked Brett. 

“She simply wanted to ask a few more details in 
regard to the coroner’s inquest. She is very much 
upset over Annette’s extraordinary death. It seems 
that the girl made some statement to her, and Mrs. 
Winthrop depended on her testimony to prove Lane 
killed Senator Carew.” 

“What did I tell you?” Brett glanced trium- 
phantly at Douglas. “I’m afraid, though I’m 
morally certain of Captain Lane’s guilt, that 
we will have some difficulty in establishing the 
fact.” 

“You will,” agreed Colonel Thornton. “So far 
you have only proved, first, that there was enmity 
between the two men; second, that Lane had the 
opportunity; third, that Annette saw him with the 
letter file, the weapon used to kill Carew, in his 
hand.” 

“The last has not been sworn to,” objected Doug- 
las, “and Annette is dead, so that statement, the 
most important of all, cannot be accepted as testi- 
mony.” 


240 


THE ACCUSATION 


“Unless some one else saw Lane in the street at 
the time Annette did,” burst in Brett swiftly, resum- 
ing his seat. 

“If they had they would have come forward be- 
fore this,” reasoned Douglas. “I consider it ex- 
tremely probable that Annette was lying when she 
said she saw a letter file in Lane’s hand. Remember 
the drenching rain; walking in what proved almost 
a cloudburst would make most people blind to so 
small a thing as a letter file carried in a man’s closed 
fist.” 

“What on earth was her object in making such 
a statement?” asked Colonel Thornton. 

“That is what we have yet to find out,” answered 
Douglas. “And there’s another point, Brett, which 
you have overlooked.” 

“What’s that?” 

“You recollect that you told me Senator Carew’s 
clothes were absolutely dry when his dead body 
was found in the carriage. Considering the down- 
pour of rain that night, it seems incredible that he 
should not have got wet.” 

“I have come to the conclusion that the coachman, 
Hamilton, lied when he said he had not stopped at 
the house for Senator Carew on Monday night,” 
replied Brett. “Having lied in the beginning, he is 
241 


THE MAN INSIDE 


now afraid to admit the truth for fear that he may 
be convicted of killing the Senator.” 

“That sounds plausible,” acknowledged Colonel 
Thornton. 

“I don’t believe it.” Douglas shook his head 
obstinately. “It has been proved already that the 
Senator did not spend Monday evening at home. I 
tell you the key to this mystery is how Senator 
Carew got into that carriage on such a stormy night 
without getting his clothes wet. When you have 
solved that problem you will know who committed 
the murder.” 

Thornton was about to reply when the hall door 
was thrown open, and Eleanor, her lovely eyes 
opened to their widest, exclaimed: 

“Uncle Dana, the Secretary of State wishes to see 
you!” 

“God bless me !” Colonel Thornton sprang out 
of his chair as the distinguished statesman followed 
Eleanor into the room. 

“Please don’t let me disturb you,” exclaimed the 
Secretary, as Douglas stepped forward, and Brett 
edged toward the door. “I only dropped in for a 
second to pick up Mr. Hunter,” laying a hand on 
Douglas’ arm. “They told me at the Albany that 
you were stopping here for a few days, so I came 
242 


THE ACCUSATION 


over in my motor to ask you to drive back to my 
office with me, although it is Sunday.” 

“Won’t you be seated, Mr. Secretary?” asked 
Colonel Thornton, as Douglas hastily gathered up 
some papers which he had left on the center table, 
and started for the door. 

“Thanks, no; it is imperative that I get to my 

office ” The Secretary stopped speaking as a 

man darted inside the door and slammed it shut. 
In his haste the newcomer collided with Douglas 
and then collapsed into the nearest chair. 

“Philip Winthrop!” gasped Eleanor, while the 
others gazed at the exhausted figure in amazement. 

“Have you any brandy?” exclaimed the Secre- 
tary, noticing the ghastly color of Winthrop’s face. 
Thornton hastily produced a decanter and gave the 
half-fainting man a stiff drink, which in a few min- 
utes had the desired effect of bringing him round. 

“Thanks,” he murmured faintly. 

“What does the doctor mean by letting you come 
out?” asked Thornton. “You are in no condition 
to leave your room.” 

“I’ll be better in a minute; give me some more,” 
Winthrop motioned toward the decanter. Colonel 
Thornton glanced questioningly at the Secretary, 
who nodded assent, so he gave Winthrop a milder 
243 


THE MAN INSIDE 


dose, which restored him somewhat, and his voice 
was stronger when he resumed speech. “The doc- 
tor doesn’t know I’m here. I slipped out while 
Mother was lying down, caught a cab at the corner, 
and drove over here. I want to see the detective, 
Brett.” 

“Here I am, sir.” Brett stepped forward into 
the circle about Winthrop. 

“Good!” Winthrop raised himself just in time 
to see Eleanor open the hall door softly. “Come 
back!” he shouted; then, as she paid no attention 
to him, cried, “Stop her! stop her; don’t let her 
slip away!” 

“What is the meaning of this?” demanded Colo- 
nel Thornton, as he stepped forward and pulled 
Eleanor back into the room and shut the door. 
“You drunken loafer! stop bellowing at my niece.” 

“I won’t, I won’t!” Winthrop had worked him- 
self into a frenzy. “She can’t drug me here, for- 
tunately — I won’t be silent — she is an international 
spy y and she murdered Senator Carew!” 


CHAPTER XX 


WEAVING THE WEB 


S LOWLY the meaning of Winthrop’s words 
dawned on the four men. 

“It’s false! false as hell!” thundered 
Douglas. He stepped forward and seized Win- 
throp in a grip of iron and shook him as a dog 
would shake a rat; then, before the others could 
intervene, threw the struggling man on the floor. 
“Bah! you’re not worth killing.” 

Whimpering with rage and weakness, Winthrop 
caught hold of the table and dragged himself up- 
right, and stood swaying on his feet. 

“It’s true, it’s true!” he reiterated. “Look at 
her,” — pointing a shaking finger to where Eleanor 
stood aghast, watching the scene. Her hand was 
on the doorknob and she seemed poised for instant 
flight. A curious smile twisted her pale lips as the 
men turned and faced her. 

“He doesn’t seem to have recovered from 
delirium tremens,” she remarked slowly. 

245 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“It may be, Miss Thornton,” — the Secretary of 
State spoke with grave deliberation, — “but it is a 
serious charge which he is making, and I think it 
had better be investigated now.” Eleanor winced 
visibly, then, controlling herself, advanced further 
into the room. 

“I am at your service,” she said with sudden 
hauteur, “but as I have an important engagement 
later I trust you will be brief.” 

“Sit by me here, Eleanor.” Colonel Thornton, 
who had listened to Winthrop’s charges in stupefied 
silence, pulled forward an armchair. “Mr. Secre- 
tary, will you occupy the desk chair, and you,” turn- 
ing to Winthrop, who cowered back as he caught 
the smoldering wrath in the older man’s eyes, “sit 
over there,” pointing to a chair some distance away. 

Brett, seeing that Winthrop was too exhausted 
to move without assistance, piloted him to the chair 
indicated by Thornton, and, getting another chair, 
placed himself by Winthrop’s side. Douglas, at a 
sign from the Secretary, sat down at the further 
end of the table and handed the statesman some 
paper and ink. 

“Now, Mr. Winthrop,” began the Secretary, “if 
you are more composed, kindly answer my ques- 
tions. Why have you waited all this time before 
246 


WEAVING THE WEB 


mentioning that you think Miss Thornton guilty of 
Senator Carew’s murder ?” 

“Because I’ve been drugged, so that I couldn’t 
give evidence. I tried twice to get a message to 
Brett, but Annette said she couldn’t reach him.” 
Winthrop spoke with labored effort. 

“Annette!” chorused Colonel Thornton, Brett, 
and Douglas, while the Secretary and Eleanor 
looked their surprise. 

“Yes, Annette,” peevishly; “she used to come in 
occasionally to give me water when those devilish 
nurses were neglecting me. She told me that Brett 
was seldom at the house, and that she never had an 
opportunity to speak to him alone.” 

“The monumental liar ” Brett checked him- 

self. “Never mind that now, Mr. Winthrop, go 
on with your story.” 

“She told me how Miss Thornton used to steal 
in and drug me, and asked me why she did it.” 

“Great Heavens!” Eleanor’s exclamation was 
followed by a half-strangled laugh which ended in 
a sob. “What a viper!” 

“You were not there last night,” sputtered Win- 
throp vindictively, “and therefore I didn’t get my 
usual dose, so I can tell what I know to-day.” A 
triumphant leer distorted his features. 

247 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“Suppose you continue your story without making 
comments,” directed the Secretary sternly. 

Winthrop nodded sullenly, then began: “You 
recollect that I spent Monday night at the Alibi 
Club, Brett?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, when I left there I motored up Nine- 
teenth Street, instead of taking the more direct way 
home. I thought I would turn into Massachusetts 
Avenue at Dupont circle, where there was less dan- 
ger of running into electric cars, for the rain was 
falling in such torrents that I could hardly see 
through my windshield.” 

“When opposite the Owen residence I ran into a 
lot of waiting carriages and motors, and had to 
slow down. In fact, I went so slowly that by the 
time I was nearly opposite Miss Thornton’s resi- 
dence I stalled my engine and had to get out in all 
the wet and crank up,” he paused dramatically. 
“You can imagine my surprise when I saw Miss 
Thornton come down under the awning which led 
to her front door and stand at the curb, looking up 
and down the street.” 

“How do you know it was Miss Thornton?” 
broke in Douglas harshly. 

“There was a street lamp by the side of the 
248 


WEAVING THE WEB 


awning and the light fell full on her; besides, I 
recognized the scarlet cloak she was wearing. I 
have seen it many times. n 

“What did my niece do, besides standing still 
and looking up and down the street?” demanded 
Colonel Thornton scornfully. 

“She ran out into the middle of the street and 
down where a carriage was drawn up at the curb, 
opened the door, stood there talking, apparently, 
for a few minutes, then shut the door and bolted 
back to the awning, and I presume entered her 
house, as I saw no more of her.” 

“What did you do next?” inquired Douglas, with 
peculiar emphasis. 

Winthrop flushed at his tone. “I had curiosity 
enough to step back and see that it was Senator 
Carew’s landau, the last of a long queue of vehicles, 
at which she had stopped; then I went on about my 
business.” 

“Do you mean to say that you did not investigate 
further?” asked the Secretary, leaning forward the 
better to scan Winthrop’s face. 

“No. I knew enough never to interfere with 
Senator Carew’s love affairs!” His sneer was in- 
tolerable. 

“By God!” Colonel Thornton sprang to his feet 
249 


THE MAN INSIDE 


and advanced on Winthrop, but Brett stepped be- 
tween the two men. 

“Have a little patience, Colonel,” he said, push- 
ing the irate man toward his seat; “then you can 
settle with Mr. Winthrop.” 

“Do you think I’m going to sit here and listen 
to aspersions on my niece’s character?” he shouted. 
“Let me get my hands on that scoundrel!” 

“Wait, Uncle Dana,” — Eleanor leaned forward 
and placed her hand on his arm, — “let him finish; 
then I will speak,” and her lips closed ominously. 

“That is excellent advice,” agreed the Secretary; 
“resume your seat, Colonel Thornton.” His tone 
of command was not to be denied, and Thornton 
dropped back in his chair. “Now, Mr. Winthrop, 
explain your last remark.” 

“Senator Carew told me on Monday afternoon 
that he expected to marry Miss Thornton, and that 
he intended to spend the evening with her.” 

Douglas leaned forward and gazed earnestly at 
Eleanor, but she refused to meet his look, and with 
a troubled expression he turned his attention to Win- 
throp, who was again speaking. 

“I told Senator Carew that I had heard a mem- 
ber of one of the embassies here declare that Miss 
Thornton was an international spy.” 

250 


WEAVING THE WEB 


“And what did he say to that statement ?” 

“He said that he would look into the matter.” 

“When did this conversation take place?” 

“On Monday afternoon.” 

“And is that all you have to go upon for such an 
accusation?” inquired Brett scornfully. 

Douglas was gazing moodily ahead of him. A 
memory of Paris, of Eleanor’s extraordinary be- 
havior there, of the whispers which followed her 
about, harassed him. Had his faith been misplaced? 
No, a thousand times no. He would pin all hope 
of future happiness on her innocence and purity of 
soul. He rose suddenly and stepped behind her 
chair, and laid his hand encouragingly on her shoul- 
der. She looked up, startled, then, seeing him, her 
lips parted in a smile, and her hand stole up to 
meet his. His firm clasp gave her courage to face 
the situation, for it told her of his unshaken confi- 
dence and love. 

Winthrop glowered at them when he saw the 
tableau, and his eyes gleamed wickedly. “It is very 
obvious,” he said, “that Senator Carew found my 
statement was true, and charged her with being a 
spy; then left her house. Exposure meant Miss 
Thornton’s ruin; even her influential relatives,” — 
he glanced meaningly at Thornton, — “could not in- 
251 


THE MAN INSIDE 


tervene to save her, so she took the law into her 
own hands, picked up the letter file, stole out of the 
house, opened the carriage door, engaged the Sen- 
ator in conversation — and stabbed him.” 

A strained silence followed, which the Secretary 
was the first to break. He turned directly to 
Eleanor. 

“You called to see Secretary Wyndham at the 
Navy Department on Wednesday morning, did you 
not, Miss Thornton?” 

Douglas’ hand tightened involuntarily, but Elea- 
nor showed no sign of agitation as she answered, 
“Yes, Mr. Secretary, I did.” 

“Have you anything further to say, Mr. Win- 
throp?” 

“Not now, Mr. Secretary.” 

“Then let me suggest,” exclaimed Thornton, 
“that Mr. Winthrop, in trying to implicate my 
niece in a dastardly crime, has but established his 
own guilt.” 

“How so?” The question shot from Winthrop’s 
clenched teeth. 

“We all know from the testimony of reputable 
servants that Senator Carew and you had quar- 
reled,” continued Thornton. “We know your 
habits are none of the best; we know that you have 
252 


WEAVING THE WEB 


suddenly become possessed of large sums of 
money ” 

Winthrop moistened his dry lips. “I deny it,** 
he exclaimed. 

Thornton paid no attention to the interruption. 
“You alone knew where Senator Carew was spend- 
ing the evening, and you went there and laid in wait 
for him, and now, you despicable cur, you are try- 
ing to lay the blame on an innocent girl.” 

Winthrop rose, goaded by the scornful looks of 
the others. “I may have had the motive and the 
opportunity to kill Senator Carew,” he admitted 
sullenly, “but I did not have — the weapon. The 
criminal sits there,” — he pointed at Eleanor; — “I 
am absolutely positive of her guilt, for the letter 
file used to kill the Senator belonged to a silver 
desk set given her by Miss Cynthia Carew.” 

Thornton frowned and turned a troubled coun- 
tenance toward Eleanor, who nodded reassuringly 
as she rose to her feet, stepped back to Douglas’ 
side, and, leaning on the back of the chair she had 
just vacated, addressed the Secretary. 

“I am a young girl, Mr. Secretary,” she began, 
“and, living alone as I do, I have been forced on 
numerous occasions to use my own judgment. It 
would have been better, perhaps, had I spoken of 
253 


THE MAN INSIDE 


certain events before this, but I was so alarmed by 
the position in which I found myself placed that I 
foolishly held my tongue. I had hoped that certain 
facts would not become public. Those facts Mr. 
Winthrop has maliciously distorted. I have been 
guilty of a blunder, not a crime.” 

“I would be most happy to believe you, Miss 
Thornton,” said the Secretary gravely; “but to 
probe this matter to the bottom I must ask certain 
questions.” 

“Which I will gladly answer.” 

“Did Senator Carew call on you on Monday 
night?” 

“He did, reaching my house about nine-thirty, 
just before the rain commenced.” 

“Did anyone else know that he was there?” 

“Only my Japanese butler, Fugi, who admitted 
him. My cousin, Mrs. Truxton, who is spending 
the winter with me, had gone to bed immediately 
after dinner.” 

“Was Annette in the house?” asked Brett 
quickly. 

“No, it was her evening out. She returned 
shortly after the Senator left.” 

“At what hour did he go?” questioned the Sec- 
retary. 


254 


WEAVING THE WEB 


“About half-past twelve o’clock.” 

“Wasn’t that rather an unusual hour for him to 
stay?” 

Eleanor colored warmly. “It was most unusual,” 
she admitted. “But the pouring rain was respon- 
sible for that. He telephoned for a herdic cab or 
a taxi, but they were all engaged, and he waited, 
hoping that one would eventually be sent to my 
house.” 

“Mr. Winthrop spoke of an awning at your door, 
Miss Thornton,” again broke in Brett. “I have 
passed your house a number of times and have never 
seen one.” 

“I had a large tea on Monday afternoon, and 
had the awning put up for that occasion, as the 
weather was threatening and my house stands some 
distance from the curb. The awning was removed 
early the next morning.” 

“It is not so very far from your house to the 
Senator’s residence,” mused the Secretary. “I 
should have thought, considering the lateness of the 
hour, that he would have walked home.” 

“But he was not going home, Mr. Secretary. He 
told me that he was going to drive to your house, 
as he had to see you immediately on your return 
that night.” 


255 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“Indeed!” The Secretary was bending forward 
in his eagerness. “Did the Senator state what he 
wished to see me about?” 

“Only in a general way. He said that he had 
that afternoon discovered proof of a gigantic plot 
against the United States; that the secrets of the 
Government were being betrayed; and that he must 
give you the names of the arch traitor and his con- 
federate. He called up your house by telephone 
earlier in the afternoon, and found that you were 
expected home on the eleven-o’clock train.” 

“I had intended to take it, but was detained at 
the last moment by pressing business and did not 
reach Washington until the following night,” ex- 
plained the Secretary. “If he couldn’t get a cab, 
why did he not call up his own house and send for 
his carriage earlier in the evening?” 

“He tried to, Mr. Secretary, but his telephone 
was out of order, and no one answered the stable 
call.” 

“How, then, did he get his own carriage?” 

“My drawing-room windows look out on Nine- 
teenth Street, and the Senator, in one of his numer- 
ous trips to discover if the rain was letting up, saw 
his carriage standing in front of my door. He 
recognized the horses and Hamilton by the light 
256 


WEAVING THE WEB 


from the lamp-post under which they stood, waiting 
for the long queue of carriages ahead to move up 
the street. The Senator instantly decided to enter 
his carriage, wait for Cynthia, and then drive to 
your house, Mr. Secretary.” 

“So that’s how he got into the carriage without 
getting wet,” cried Brett; “the awning protected 
him. I suppose he just popped into his carriage 
and said nothing to Hamilton, as he intended to wait 
for his niece, and Hamilton was too befuddled with 
drink and the storm to notice the opening and clos- 
ing of the door. Did you watch the Senator leave 
the house?” 

Eleanor shook her head. “No,” she said. 

“Miss Thornton,” — the Secretary bent forward 
impressively, — “were you engaged to Senator 
Carew?” 

Eleanor’s color rose, but she faced the keen eyes 
watching her unflinchingly. “No, Mr. Secretary; 
the Senator did me the honor to ask me to marry 
him on Monday night, but I refused.” 

“Then you deny running out after his carriage, 
which Mr. Winthrop declares you did?” 

“No, sir, I do not deny it. Mr. Winthrop is 
quite right.” She paused, and the men looked at 
her expectantly. “I have a quest in life — not the 
257 


THE MAN INSIDE 


one attributed to me by this gentleman,” — waving 
her hand scornfully toward Winthrop, who was lis- 
tening to her statement with an incredulous smile 
distorting his features, — “but an honorable legacy 
which my dear mother left me to execute. 

“On bidding me a hasty good night, Senator 
Carew, whether in jest or earnest, told me that, if 
I would marry him, he would assist me to bring 
my mission to a successful conclusion.” 

“Would you mind stating what this quest is?” 
asked the Secretary. 

Eleanor hesitated. “It is a family matter, and 
I would rather not go into it just now. But — if 
necessary — I promise to explain later.” 

The Secretary did not press the point. “Con- 
tinue your story, Miss Thornton.” 

“About five minutes or more after the Senator 
left I came to the conclusion that my duty” — she 
glanced appealingly at Douglas — “compelled me to 
marry him. On an impulse, I picked up my cloak, 
which was hanging on the hall rack, opened the 
front door, and ran down to the curb. 

“The Carew landau is easily recognized, and after 
peering up and down the street I saw that it had 
moved up several doors. Without stopping to 
think or consider the consequences, I ran down the 
258 


WEAVING THE WEB 


street to the carriage and opened the door ” 

She stopped, breathless. 

“Go on, go on,” urged Douglas. 

“I opened the door,” she repeated, “and, as God 
is my witness, I found Senator Carew sitting there — 
dead.” 


CHAPTER XXI 


AN INTERNATIONAL INTRIGUE 

A S her voice ceased on the last solemn word 
Eleanor read astonishment and incredulity 
written on her listeners’ faces, and her 
heart sank. She bit her lips to hide their trembling. 

“How did you discover Senator Carew was dead, 
Miss Thornton?” asked the Secretary harshly. “It 
has been testified that the interior of the landau 
was dark and that the carriage lamps had been ex- 
tinguished.” 

“I did not see he was dead,” — Eleanor hesitated. 
“After opening the carriage door I spoke to him 
several times. On getting no reply, I put out my 
hand and accidentally touched his chest, and my 
fingers encountered the round base of the letter file.” 
Her large eyes filled with horror at the recollection. 
“I did not, of course, know what it was then, but I 
realized that something was dreadfully wrong. The 
Senator’s silence, the touch of that cold metal in 
such a place terrified me. I drew back, instinctively 
260 


AN INTERNATIONAL INTRIGUE 


closed the carriage door, and fled to my house. 
The next morning I heard of the murder from An- 
nette.’’ 

“Why did you not come forward with this in- 
formation then?” asked Brett sternly. 

“Because I was afraid.” Eleanor threw out her 
hands appealingly. “I had no one to verify my 
statements, and I feared I would be charged with 
the crime. Confident of my own innocence, I did 
not think any information I might furnish would 
assist the arrest of the guilty person.” 

“You should have spoken sooner,” said Colonel 
Thornton sharply. He tempered his rebuke by ris- 
ing and leading Eleanor to his own comfortable 
chair, into which she sank wearily. “But the harm 
your silence has done can fortunately be remedied. 
Philip Winthrop,” — swinging around on the young 
man, — “your plea that you lacked the weapon used 
is puerile; you could easily have picked one up at 
the club ; letter files are kept on most desks. Know- 
ing where Senator Carew was to be on Monday 
night, you laid your plans carefully beforehand, 
and with devilish ingenuity picked out an unusual 
weapon, so that it would be harder to trace the 
murder to you.” 

“You lie!” growled Winthrop fiercely; then, 
261 


THE MAN INSIDE 


addressing them all, “I had nothing whatever to do 
with the Senator’s death. She did it, though your 
misplaced sympathy blinds you to the truth.” 

“Miss Thornton’s sex will not shield her,” de- 
clared the Secretary firmly, “if she be guilty — but, 
Mr. Winthrop, your story will also be investigated 
to the minutest detail. Until your innocence is 
proved without a shadow of a doubt you will con- 
sider yourself under arrest. Brett will see that the 
proper papers are made out.” 

Winthrop blanched. “I’m — I’m — in no condition 
to go to jail,” he stammered. “It is monstrous!” 

“Just a moment,” broke in Douglas. He had 
been deep in thought, and had paid but little atten- 
tion to their conversation. “You say, Winthrop, 
that the letter file used to slay Senator Carew be- 
longed to a desk set given to Miss Thornton by 
Miss Cynthia Carew.” 

“I do,” exclaimed Winthrop positively. 

Eleanor’s surprise w^as reflected in her uncle’s 
face. Was Douglas taking sides against her? Her 
eyes filled with tears, which she winked hastily 
away. 

“Have you such a desk set, Eleanor?” demanded 
Douglas. 

“Yes, Cynthia gave it to me last Christmas.” 

262 


AN INTERNATIONAL INTRIGUE 


‘‘Is the letter file missing?” 

The answer was slow in coming. “Yes,” she 
breathed faintly. 

“Ah! What did I tell you?” cried Winthrop 
triumphantly. 

Douglas paid no attention to him, but continued 
to address Eleanor. “Where do you keep this desk 
set?” 

“In the writing room across the hall from my 
drawing-room.” 

“Describe your first floor, please, Eleanor.” 

“The drawing-room is to the left of the front 
door; to the right is the small writing room, back 
of that the staircase, and back of the drawing-room 
is the dining room. The house is what is called 
three-quarters.” 

“I see. Does the dining room communicate with 
the drawing-room?” 

“Yes; there are old-fashioned sliding doors be- 
tween the two rooms.” 

“Do you use portieres?” 

“Yes, on all the doors.” 

Douglas smiled at her encouragingly, then he 
turned to the four men. “Miss Thornton has testi- 
fied that no one of her household knew that Sen- 
ator Carew was with her Monday night. She is 
263 


THE MAN INSIDE 


mistaken. There was one other person who knew 
that fact; who had ample opportunity to overhear 
her conversation with the Senator; to take the letter 
file from the desk in the writing room, and steal 
after him when he left, open the carriage door, and 
stab him.” 

“Who was it?” questioned Eleanor breathlessly, 
while the others hung on his words. 

“The servant who admitted him.” 

“Fugi!” gasped Thornton. “My God! I believe 
you’re right. But the motive, man?” 

“An international intrigue.” Douglas caught the 
Secretary’s eye, who nodded appreciatively. “Miss 
Thornton has already stated that Senator Carew 
told her that he had discovered proof of a plot 
against this country, that the secrets of this govern- 
ment were being betrayed, that he knew the names 
of the spy or spies, and that he was on the way to 
inform the Secretary of State. Concealed in one 
of the portieres, Fugi overheard all this, and, to 
save his own life, killed Senator Carew.” 

“You’ve solved it,” declared Brett, rising. “I’ll 
run over to your house now, Miss Thornton, and 
catch Fugi before he can get away.” 

“I don’t think you’ll find him there,” interposed 
Eleanor. “Mrs. Truxton went out in my motor for 
264 


AN INTERNATIONAL INTRIGUE 


a drive this afternoon, and Fugi, who acts as chauf- 
feur as well as butler, is driving the car. I expect 
them here at any moment.” 

“So much the better.” 

“There is a car drawn up alongside of mine 
now,” exclaimed the Secretary, who had gone over 
to the window overlooking the street. 

Brett started for the door, but, before he reached 
it, it was flung open and Mrs. Truxton precipitated 
herself into the room. Her hat was cocked on one 
side in the most rakish manner and her flushed face 
testified to her perturbed state of mind. 

“I’ve found you, Mr. Secretary!” she exclaimed, 
slamming the door shut. “Don’t go,” as Brett 
moved past her. “I went to your house, then to 
the State Department ” She stopped, breath- 

less. 

“Sit down,” said the Secretary soothingly, “and 
tell me why you wished to see me so urgently.” 

“Oh, dear, I’m so confused!” Mrs. Truxton 
drew a long breath, then plunged into her story. 
“I stopped at our house, Eleanor, as I had forgot- 
ten to bring my writing materials here. I found 
my letter book in my room where I had left it, and, 
on opening it, discovered this letter addressed to 
you, Mr. Secretary” — drawing out an envelope from 
265 


THE MAN INSIDE 


her handbag. “I can’t conceive where it came 
from,” added the poor woman, “except that I left 
my letter book in Eleanor’s drawing-room on Mon- 
day night on my way to bed. I was up early Tues- 
day morning before any of the servants were down, 
and, on entering the drawing-room, found my letter 
book still lying on the table, with several of its 
leaves turned over. I gathered up all the papers 
without looking at them carefully, and took them 
up to my desk and laid them away in a drawer. 
This is the first time I have opened the letter book, 
for in your absence, Eleanor, I have used your writ- 
ing room.” Mrs. Truxton paused to take breath. 
“It’s marked ‘important,’ and that’s why I hurried 
after you; besides, handwriting is like a photograph 
to me, and I never forget one I have seen — that 
letter is from Senator Carew.” 

“Good God! the missing letter!” shouted Brett. 

The Secretary took the letter from Mrs. Truxton 
and tore it open, and, in a voice of suppressed ex- 
citement, read its contents aloud. 

“My Dear Mr. Secretary: 

“I am writing to you in case I do not see you 
before you attend the Cabinet meeting to-morrow 
morning. Your servant tells me that you are ex- 
266 


AN INTERNATIONAL INTRIGUE 


pected home on a late train to-night, but I may be 
detained in reaching your house, or the train may be 
later than scheduled, and therefore I might miss 
you. The President will reach Washington to-mor- 
row on the Mayflower from his trip down the 
Chesapeake, and it is impossible for me to reach 
him to-night. 

“I have discovered that Colombia is inciting Pan- 
ama to revolt. We are not too well liked down 
there as it is. I have also discovered that Japan 
will take a hand in the game. The Island of Gor- 
gona, in the Pacific, which belongs to a wealthy 
Colombian, has a magnificent harbor — the Harbor 
of Trinidad — and it has been offered to the latter 
nation as a coaling station. Japan does not have to 
appeal to European nations to finance a war; the 
South Americans will provide funds. They are 
jealous of our growing prestige, our increasing com- 
merce, and fear our colonization. We reached out 
and grasped Panama, and they think we are casting 
covetous glances at Mexico and other countries to 
the South. Japan has also been guaranteed the 
Philippines. 

“I induced Douglas Hunter, attache of the Amer- 
ican Embassy at Tokio, to make certain investiga- 
tions. I expect to see him to-morrow, and, if he 
has discovered anything of material value, I will 
bring him with me to the State Department at once. 

“In making these researches I find perfidy and 
dishonor exists in an astounding quarter. Govern- 
267 


THE MAN INSIDE 


ment secrets are being betrayed by a paid spy and 
traitor — Dana Thornton ” 

A chair was dashed aside, and, before anyone 
could move, Colonel Thornton had thrown open 
the hall door and disappeared. So totally unex- 
pected was the denouement that the others sat too 
stunned to move, and that moment’s respite gave 
Thornton his chance. The roar of a motor broke 
the spell, and the men, galvanized into sudden 
action, raced to the front door, only in time to see 
Eleanor’s powerful car, far down the street, with 
Colonel Thornton at the wheel. He turned the 
machine into Wisconsin Avenue and disappeared. 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE PURSUIT 

T AKE my car!” called the Secretary of State, 
as Brett and Douglas started up the street 
on a run. They turned and rejoined the 
Secretary as the latter’s chauffeur, attracted by the 
disturbance, hastened out of the garden, where he 
had gone to get a glass of water. 

The three men sprang into the machine, and in a 
few seconds were off. They swung into Wisconsin 
Avenue and sped on up that thoroughfare. The 
avenue was almost deserted at that hour, and the 
Sunday quiet was only broken by the whirr of their 
car as it gained headway. Far in the distance they 
could descry Thornton’s motor, and, in obedience 
to Brett’s order, the chauffeur increased his speed. 

On and on they went. A bicycle policeman 
shouted at them as they whizzed by and, clamber- 
ing on his machine, started in pursuit. They passed 
a crowded trolley car, and the passengers stared at 
their mad speed. They reached the outskirts of 
269 


THE MAN INSIDE 


Georgetown and the more open country beyond. 
They gained on the car ahead of them, and Brett 
shouted aloud with the joy of the chase as they 
drew nearer. They passed the Naval Observatory, 
cut across Massachusetts Avenue extended, just 
shaving several other automobiles, the startled 
drivers thereof wasting their breath in sending end- 
less curses after them. They swept past the Cathe- 
dral Close and continued their race along the 
Rockville pike. 

As they approached the River Road they saw 
Thornton turn his car, scarcely reducing his speed, 
and cut across the road. It was a dangerous corner 
at any time, and as the front wheels made the turn 
the body of the car slued around. There was a 
grinding, splintering crash as the car struck one 
of the tall poles supporting the overhead trolley 
wires, and. the big machine turned turtle. 

Brett’s chauffeur put on a final burst of speed, 
and the limousine leaped madly down the road. A 
cry of horror broke from the three men as a tongue 
of flame shot up from the overturned car ahead of 
them. 

“By Heavens! the gasolene has ignited!” gasped 
Douglas. He was on the running board when the 
car slowed down near Thornton’s motor. The lat- 
270 


THE PURSUIT 


ter was a mass of flames. Douglas sprang to the 
ground, and the others followed him. “Get some 
fence rails,” he directed. “We must try and lift 
the car so that Thornton can crawl out.” 

In a few minutes the men were back with boards 
torn from a nearby fence, but in that short time the 
flames had gained headway, and they were driven 
back by the intense heat. Unfortunately there was 
no loose sand at hand. An outgoing trolley car 
stopped, and several passengers ran to Douglas’ 
aid. The fence boards caught fire and had to be 
put out, but finally the car was raised a slight dis- 
tance from the ground, and a cry of exultation 
broke from the toiling men, only to die into a groan 
as a sharp explosion, followed by a heavier de- 
tonation, rang out. Dropping their hold on the 
boards, the men bolted to a safe distance down the 
road. 

“It’s hopeless 1” gasped Brett. “No man can live 
in that fiery furnace.” 

Douglas groaned aloud. He had been shocked be- 
yond measure by the discovery of Thornton’s guilt 
and treachery, for he had liked him, and had ac- 
cepted his hospitality. It was horrible to see him 
meet such a fate. Better the electric chair than 
being roasted alive. 


271 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“Perhaps he jumped from the car before it turned 
turtle,” he suggested. 

“It’s hardly likely,” exclaimed Brett dubiously. 
“Still, we might look along the road. We can do 
no good over there.” He shuddered slightly as he 
turned to look at the still burning car. The steel 
and metal work had been twisted into grotesque 
shapes by the great heat, which added to the ghastly 
picture. 

Their search along the roadside was fruitless, and 
Douglas and Brett returned to the Secretary of 
State’s limousine. They had to wait some time be- 
fore the flames about the remains of Thornton’s 
car died down into a smoldering mass. After the 
fire had burned itself out, Brett, with the assistance 
of horror-stricken spectators among the crowd that 
had collected with the Aladdin-like magic which 
characterizes street gatherings, examined the ground 
with minute care. Suddenly he moved over to where 
Douglas was standing, keeping back the curious 
crowd, and beckoned him to one side. 

“Colonel Thornton did not jump from the car, 
Mr. Hunter,” he said gravely. “We’ve just found 
all that’s left of him — his ashes.” 


CHAPTER XXIII 


THE END OF THE QUEST 

A ND so that was his end!” Eleanor drew a 
long, shuddering breath. “Poor Uncle 
Dana ! Douglas, do you really think he 
was guilty?” 

“Pm afraid so,” sorrowfully. “The very fact 
that he was trying to escape proves it; otherwise he 
would have stayed here and faced an investigation.” 

“It’s dreadful, dreadful !” moaned Eleanor. “And 
almost unbelievable. A traitor! A murderer! 
But” — checking herself — “that last hasn’t been 
proved.” 

“That’s Brett’s voice,” exclaimed Douglas, spring- 
ing from his chair and crossing to the hall door. 
“Come in, Brett; Miss Thornton and I are sitting 
in the library.” 

The detective gave his hat and light overcoat to 
Nicodemus and followed Douglas back into the 
room, first closing the door carefully behind him. 
“Has Captain Lane been here yet?” he inquired. 
273 


THE MAN INSIDE 


Yes, he came over at once on being released. 
Mrs. Truxton took him upstairs to see Cynthia, who 
is rapidly improving, now that the mystery of Sen- 
ator Carew’s death is solved and Fred cleared of 
any complicity in it,” explained Eleanor. 

“Then would you mind asking Captain Lane to 
come down, Miss Thornton? I have several pieces 
of news which I must tell you, and I think his pres- 
ence is necessary.” Eleanor looked at him ques- 
tioningly, and he added hastily, “He won’t be in- 
volved in any further trouble.” 

“What tragedies have happened since I reached 
this house twenty-four hours ago,” exclaimed Doug- 
las, pacing the room restlessly. “Annette’s death 

last night, and now the Colonel ” He did not 

finish his sentence, but instead stopped before the 
full-length portrait of a dead and gone Thornton, 
and gazed moodily at the painted face. From that 
gallant naval hero to Dana Thornton, traitor, was 
indeed a great descent. “A good man gone wrong,” 
he commented, finally. 

“An accomplished scoundrel,” growled Brett. 
He stopped speaking as Eleanor reentered the room, 
followed by Fred Lane. The young officer showed 
the ordeal he had gone through that morning and 
afternoon by the deep lines under his eyes and 
274 


THE END OF THE QUEST 

around his mouth. He bowed curtly to Douglas and 
Brett. 

“You wish to see me?” he asked. 

“Sit down, please.” Brett pushed forward a 
chair for Eleanor, and the others grouped them- 
selves about the center table. By common consent 
they all avoided Colonel Thornton’s favorite arm- 
chair. “I am anxious to have a talk with you be- 
cause there are several loose threads to this mys- 
tery which must be straightened out.” 

“What are they?” questioned Lane impatiently; 
he longed to be back with Cynthia. 

“On my return from the River Road to head- 
quarters I found an answer from the Paris police 
to my cable. They tell me, Miss Thornton, that 
your maid, Annette, was an international spy.” 

“Great heavens!” ejaculated Eleanor, in round- 
eyed astonishment. 

“She was also in the habit of impersonating you.” 
Eleanor’s face was a study. “She had clothes made 
exactly like yours, even her kimono was a duplicate. 
From what I hear, Mr. Hunter, I judge Annette, 
who you recollect was in the hall when we were dis- 
cussing the mysterious letter written by Senator 
Carew, decided to try and find it, and that’s why 
she paid you a visit in the library last Tuesday night. 
27 5 


THE MAN INSIDE 


She did not know that I had asked you to sleep 
there.” 

“I was grossly deceived in her,” declared Eleanor 
bitterly. “I presume her splendid recommendations 
were all ” 

“Forgeries,” supplemented Brett. “Quite right, 
they must have been. I have just talked with one 
of the nurses from Providence Hospital who at- 
tended Philip Winthrop, and he declares that he 
caught Annette trying to give Philip a sleeping 
powder. Probably she wished to reap all the re- 
ward that she could, through blackmail and other- 
wise, and was afraid if Philip saw me that he would 
spoil her ‘scoop.’ With her usual habit of involv- 
ing you, Miss Thornton, she made that crazy fool 
believe you were drugging him.” 

“Will you please explain to me,” broke in Fred 
Lane, “why Mrs. Winthrop swore out a warrant 
for my arrest? What led her to believe me guilty?” 

“Mrs. Winthrop wished me to tell you, Captain 
Lane, that she bitterly regrets her hasty action. I 
never saw anyone so completely broken up. It 
seems she wanted that graceless stepson of hers to 
marry her niece, Miss Carew, so that he would 
eventually inherit the Carew fortune. Then she 
has a natural antipathy for you because you are 
276 


THE END OF THE QUEST 


your father’s son, and she was, unfortunately, only 
too ready to believe you guilty. Annette told her 
a number of lies,” — Brett shrugged his shoulders 
expressively, — “and there you have it — along with 
other circumstantial evidence, which would have 
pretty nearly convicted you.” 

Lane flushed angrily. “So Mrs. Winthrop took 
the word of a worthless servant, the better to 
humiliate me . . 

“Had Annette any grounds for her accusation?” 
questioned Brett swiftly. “Mrs. Owen said her 
library desk file mysteriously disappeared the night 
of her dance.” 

“A coincidence which I cannot account for,” de- 
clared Lane, looking the detective squarely in the 
eye. “It may be that Annette saw the end of my 
silver handled umbrella which I was carrying, and 
in the uncertain light mistook it for a weapon of 
some sort.” 

“Considering Annette’s natural disposition to lie,” 
broke in Douglas, “I think it highly probable that 
she made up the story, and told it to Miss Carew.” 

“And probably promised to keep silent if Miss 
Carew paid her,” suggested Brett scornfully. “It’s 
too bad Miss Carew permitted the maid to black- 
mail her.” 


277 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“What about the threatening letters to Senator 
Carew which Mrs. Winthrop thought I sent?” in- 
quired Lane. 

“Philip Winthrop wrote them.” 

“The miserable scoundrel!” ejaculated Lane. 

“He was that and more — the Secretary of State 
and I took him back home in the former’s motor, 
and when we had done grilling him we had cleared 
up many details in regard to this international in- 
trigue. Through Senator Carew’s letter and Win- 
throp’s disclosures the intrigue has been nipped in 
the bud before more serious results can happen.” 

“Thank God for that!” exclaimed Douglas de- 
voutly. 

“It seems that Philip Winthrop has been a go- 
between for a wealthy Colombian, whose name he 
obstinately withholds, and some person whom the 
conspirators called ‘our mutual friend.’ Strange to 
say, Philip declares he never knew until Carew’s 
letter was read that the mysterious individual was 
Colonel Dana Thornton. He says he gave all com- 
munications for the ‘mutual friend’ to Annette, and 
Annette, if you please, made him believe that the 
spy was — Miss Thornton.” 

“Well, upon my word!” cried Eleanor, her eyes 
blazing with indignation. “I was a nice cat’s-paw 
278 


THE END OF THE QUEST 


for her. Do you know, I believe she, and not my 
uncle, killed Senator Carew.” 

“I’m sorry,” — Brett hesitated, then went slowly 
on. “I’m sorry to say there’s no doubt but that 
Colonel Thornton did murder the Senator. I don’t 
want to inflict any more pain than necessary, Miss 
Thornton, but you will hear the details from others 
if not from me. I have seen Soto, your Japanese 
cook, and he swore that Colonel Thornton called at 
your house on Monday night, just after the Sen- 
ator’s arrival, and Fugi admitted him. On being 
informed that Senator Carew was with you, your 
uncle told the butler not to announce him, but that 
he would wait in the writing room until the Senator 
left. Soto showed me an umbrella which Fugi had 
carried to the kitchen to dry for the Colonel. It 
has your uncle’s initials engraved on the handle, and 
Nicodemus positively identified it as belonging to 
the Colonel when I showed it to him on my arrival 
here just now. 

“On being pressed, Soto also admitted that late 
Monday night he left your house to post a letter. 
As he came up the area steps to the terraced walk, 
which was covered by the awning, leading from the 
house to the sidewalk, he almost collided with Sen- 
ator Carew, who seemed buried in thought and did 
279 


THE MAN INSIDE 


not notice his approach. Soto drew back respect- 
fully toward the area steps to let him pass. As the 
Senator entered his carriage another man sped down 
your high front steps, and, on reaching the car- 
riage, pulled open the door and entered the vehicle, 
which then moved on. Soto swears solemnly that 
this last man was Colonel Thornton.” 

Eleanor drew a long, sobbing breath, and glanced 
helplessly at the others. Her uncle was not only 
a traitor but a murderer. Her worst fears were 
realized. None cared to break the pause, and, 
after waiting a moment, Brett took up his narrative 
where he had left off. 

“It must be, Miss Thornton, that your uncle 
overheard all or part of your conversation with the 
Senator. He probably waited in the writing room 
until the Senator left the house, picked up the letter 
file, as he had no other weapon handy, and stole 
after him. Hamilton was too drunk to notice any- 
thing. The horses probably moved up the street of 
their own accord when the preceding carriages made 
room for them to advance. It was unpremeditated 
murder, and yet chance concealed Colonel Thorn- 
ton’s tracks most successfully.” 

“You are right,” agreed Douglas. “If Annette 
had found Carew’s letter to the Secretary of State 
280 


THE END OF THE QUEST 


instead of Mrs. Truxton, Thornton would have es- 
caped detection.” 

“Annette was always complaining of Mrs. Trux- 
ton’s early rising,” Eleanor laughed hysterically, 
then cried a little. 

“My darling, let me get you some wine!” ex- 
claimed Douglas in distress. 

“No, no, sit down!” Eleanor clutched his coat. 
“Don’t pay any attention to me; I’ll be all right in 
a minute.” 

“Fugi has disappeared,” went on Brett, after a 
brief silence. “I think he overheard our conversa- 
tion here this afternoon, for Nicodemus says he was 
loitering in the hall. On searching his room at 
your house, Miss Thornton, I found evidence, 
through certain papers, that he had been in your 
uncle’s pay.” 

“He thought it wiser to bolt,” commented Fred 
Lane. “I have no doubt he knew more of affairs 
than we are giving him credit for.” 

“It’s a great pity, Miss Thornton, that you kept 
silent so long,” said Brett. “If I had known that 
Senator Carew spent the evening with you, and also 
about the awning, I would have cleared up this mys- 
tery sooner.” 

“I should have spoken.” Eleanor looked so 
281 


THE MAN INSIDE 


troubled that Douglas sat down on the arm of her 
chair and took her hand gently in his. As his 
strong grasp tightened she formed a sudden reso- 
lution. “There is another reason for my silence 
which I have not told you; wait a moment,” and 
she rose and hurriedly left the room. 

The men smoked in silence until her return. “The 
room is very dark, won’t you light another burner, 
Douglas?” she asked, on her return. She waited 
until her wish had been complied with, then, as the 
men seated themselves near her, she began her story. 
“On Tuesday morning, just after I had heard of 
Senator Carew’s death, I received a cardboard box 
containing jewels. That in itself bewildered me, 
but I was astounded by the message written in an 
unknown hand which I found on a card inside the 
box.” As she spoke she opened the small box which 
she had just brought into the room with her. “Here 
is the card; read the message aloud, Douglas.” 

“ ‘The appointment was not kept. Well done/ ” 
Douglas laid the card on the desk and the three 
men looked at each other in amazement. 

“The message frightened me horribly,” con- 
tinued Eleanor. “I realized that some one must 
have thought me guilty of the Senator’s death — and 
approved of it. The mystery of it appalled me. 

282 


THE END OF THE QUEST 


I did not know whom to take into my confidence ; so 
I put the jewels into my strong box and said noth- 
ing, hoping that I would be able to ferret out the 
mystery by myself.” 

“Let us see the jewels,” suggested Douglas. 

Eleanor opened the box and pulled off the top 
layer of cotton, then rolled the necklace of rubies 
on the table, where the stones lay glittering under 
the strong light. 

“They are superb!” exclaimed Douglas, while a 
low murmur of admiration broke from Lane. 

“Their almost priceless value frightened me more 
than anything else,” explained Eleanor. “I could 
not imagine who had sent them to me ” 

“That’s easily answered.” Brett picked up the 
necklace and examined it minutely. “This necklace 
was sent you by the man who stole it.” 

“What?” ejaculated the two men, while Eleanor 
collapsed limply in her chair. 

“These are the Hemmingway rubies,” went on 
Brett. “They were stolen about a month ago in 
New York, and the police of this country and 
Europe were notified of their loss. I have here,” 
drawing out a leather wallet and extracting a thin, 
typewritten sheet, “one of the notices sent to Head- 
quarters. Let me refresh my memory.” He 
283 


THE MAN INSIDE 


skimmed over the lines, then a shout of exultation 
escaped him. “Listen: ‘Mrs. Hemmingway was 
entertaining a house party at the time of the theft. 
Among her guests were Mr. and Mrs. Henry St. 
John, of Philadelphia; Miss Snyder, of Chicago; 
Colonel Dana Thornton, of Washington ’ ” 

“Oh, no, no!” Eleanor cried, throwing out her 
arms as if to thrust the idea from her, then dropped 
forward and buried her head on her arms on the 
table. 

Douglas started to move over to her side, but 
Brett checked him. “Let her alone,” he advised in 
an undertone; “it’s a shock, but she will recover.” 
Then, in a louder tone : “By Heavens ! that man was 
a positive genius!” in reluctant admiration. “He 
probably heard that the case had been turned over 
to the police, although the Hemmingways had asked 
to have the search conducted quietly, and there- 
fore it did not reach the papers. Fearing to keep 
the necklace in his possession, he sent it to his niece 
with a cryptic message which he knew she would 
not, under the circumstances, dare show to others, 
and also reasoned that she would keep the necklace 
concealed for the same cause. I don’t doubt he 
expected her eventually to ask his advice about the 
jewels and then he would get them back again, as 
284 


THE END OF THE QUEST 


soon as all danger of detection was over, on the 
plea that he would have them returned to the 
rightful owner, or some such plausible excuse.” 

“Upon my word, such villany exceeds belief.” 
Lane gazed incredulously at the detective. “And 
yet I don’t doubt you have guessed the right solu- 
tion of the problem.” 

“Eleanor, dear,” — Douglas turned to the weep- 
ing girl. “If you feel strong enough I wish you 
would tell us about your quest to which you alluded 
this afternoon.” Eleanor raised her head and 
looked reproachfully at him. “I realize the sub- 
ject may prove painful to you at this time, but, An- 
nette having implicated you in her transactions, I 
think it is best for you to clear up any seeming 
mysteries.” 

“Perhaps you are right.” Eleanor sighed as she 
wiped away her tears. “I must first tell you that 
my mother was Nora Fitzgerald ” 

“The famous actress?” broke in Brett. 

“The same. She gave up the stage when she 
married my father, Barry Thornton, then a lieu- 
tenant in the United States Navy. Their married 
life was unusually happy; therefore it was all the 
more incredible and tragic when one day he dis- 
appeared ” 


285 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“Disappeared?” echoed Douglas blankly. 

“Disappeared utterly. His ship was at Hampton 
Roads and he was given shore leave one day. At 
the wharf he told the coxswain to come back for 
him at ten o’clock that evening, and he walked on 
up to the hotel. From that hour to this he has 
never been seen or heard from.” Eleanor paused 
and pushed her hair off her forehead, then con- 
tinued: “A short time before his mysterious disap- 
pearance my father fell from the rigging of the 
ship to the deck with such force that he was picked 
up unconscious. It is supposed that the fall may 
have affected his brain, and so accounted for his sub- 
sequent disappearance.” 

“That is very likely,” commented Lane. “I saw 
a similar case in the Philippines, but pardon me, 
Miss Eleanor, I did not mean to interrupt.” 

“Several days after my father’s disappearance a 
nude body was washed ashore miles below Nor- 
folk. The condition of the body prevented positive 
identification, but many persons, among them Uncle 
Dana, believed it to be my father. My mother, 
however, refused to accept that theory. She was 
convinced that he was still alive and suffering from 
mental aberration. She returned to the stage, first 
placing me with my uncle, John Fitzgerald, who 
286 


THE END OF THE QUEST 


brought me up. She visited many cities and many 
countries, but could find no trace of my father. 
Shortly before her death she sent for me and 
charged me solemnly to continue her search, which 
I have done to the best of my ability.” 

“My poor girl,” said Douglas softly. 

“My idea has been that if my father was still 
alive he would pursue his profession, so I searched 
the records of other navies, thinking that perhaps 
he might be serving under another flag. The day 
that you saw me at the Navy Department, Douglas, 
I had been going over old records, hoping to find 
some clew to his present whereabouts.” 

Douglas colored hotly as he remembered the con- 
struction which he had put on her presence in the 
department. “What did you mean,” he asked, “by 
saying this afternoon that Senator Carew told you 
he could help you to bring your quest to a successful 
conclusion?” 

“Senator Carew said that while in Panama he had 
seen a man who closely resembled my father. The 
stranger apparently did not recognize him, but so 
certain was Senator Carew of his identity that he 
gave him his visiting card, and insisted that he 
should call at the Navy Department in Washington. 
Douglas, do you recollect asking me about a man 
287 


THE MAN INSIDE 


who you thought you saw with me in the elevator 
at the Navy Department on Wednesday?” 

“I do.” 

“I was terribly excited by your apparently simple 
question, for in stating that the man had black 
hair and blue eyes you exactly described my father.” 

“Great heavens!” Douglas sprang to his feet. 
“It is most astounding, but such a man as you de- 
scribe really did call at the Department that morn- 
ing and insisted on seeing the Secretary, saying that 
he had an appointment to meet Senator Carew.” 

“What became of him?” Eleanor’s lovely eyes 
were aglow with excitement. 

“I don’t know. The Secretary and I both thought 
he had stolen the plans of the battleships.” Elea- 
nor’s shocked expression stopped him. “Of course, 
now we know it was Colonel Thornton who called 
there later with you and Mrs. Wyndham, although 
how on earth he managed to steal the plans under 
the very nose of the Secretary is beyond me.” 

“Let me think.” Eleanor pressed her hands to 
her throbbing temples. “I remember now; it must 
have been when Uncle Dana was using the desk 
telephone. He was leaning forward across the desk, 
and I recall that I noticed he had his right hand in 
a drawer; I couldn’t see very distinctly, as his body 
288 


THE END OF THE QUEST 


was between us and the drawer and his overcoat 
was also thrown on the desk. Mrs. Wyndham was 
looking at a book, and the Secretary was coughing 
his head off by the further window, with his back 
toward us.” 

Brett struck the table a resounding blow with his 
clenched fist. 

“By George, but he was slick! The smartest 
criminal I’ve run across in years.” 

A discreet tap sounded on the library door, and 
a muffled voice asked: “ ’Scuse me, but am Miss 
Eleanor in dar?” 

“Come in, Nicodemus,” called Eleanor. The old 
darky entered and, circling the table, handed her a 
note on the silver salver. She hastily tore it open 
and read its contents. “I must consult Cousin 
Kate,” she announced, rising hastily, “before I can 
answer this.” 

“We must all be going,” said Brett, following her 
into the hall, while Nicodemus paused to put out 
the lights. “One moment, Miss Thornton, will you 
please give me the ruby necklace.” 

“Why, I handed it to you,” ejaculated Eleanor, 
in surprise, turning back from the staircase. 

“I beg your pardon,” said Brett, with positive- 
“I saw Mr. Hunter drop it on the table in 
289 


ness. 


THE MAN INSIDE 


front of you.” Douglas and the young officer 
joined them. 

“So he did,” declared Lane, and with the others 
followed Eleanor as she hastily reentered the li- 
brary. 

“Why, it’s not anywhere on the table.” Eleanor 
felt among the table ornaments. “Douglas, do light 
the gas,” in growing alarm. 

“Where in thunder are the matches?” growled 
Douglas, overturning a vase on the secretary in 
his endeavors to find a matchbox. “Got any, Nico- 
demus?” as a figure brushed by him in the darkness 
and approached the chimney. The other men were 
busy searching vainly in their pockets for a match. 

“Good for you, Nicodemus,” called Douglas, as 
a tiny flame appeared in the direction of the chim- 
ney. “Bring it over here and light this chande- 
lier.” His order was not obeyed. 

The flickering light grew stronger, and then 
Douglas realized that it was burning some distance 
from the servant. The flame became stronger, and 
by its rays a face grew out of the surrounding dark- 
ness. A strong, handsome face, whose pallor was 
enhanced by the heavy black beard and dark shaggy 
eyebrows. The eyes were fixed on Nicodemus, who 
stood in the shadow with his back to the rest, and 
290 


THE END OF THE QUEST 


the two stared unblinkingly at each other. The 
silence was intolerable. Eleanor and the three men 
stood transfixed, too astounded to move. Suddenly 
a choking sob burst from Nicodemus. He threw out 
his arms as if to ward off some overmastering hor- 
ror, swayed forward, and fell heavily to the floor. 

The candle flickered suddenly as it was raised and 
applied to a wall gas jet. The sudden light caused 
the spellbound spectators of the scene to blink vio- 
lently; then, as their eyes grew accustomed to the 
illumination, they made out the figure of a tall man 
in nondescript clothes standing near the chimney. 

“Who — who are you, and where in hell did you 
come from?” gasped Brett. 

“I am Barry Thornton, formerly of the United 
States Navy.” The newcomer caught sight of 
Eleanor, and stretched out his arms pleadingly. 
“My dear, dear daughter.” 

Eleanor, grown deadly white, clutched the table 
for support. “I don’t understand,” she stammered. 

“I forgot.” The newcomer’s arms dropped to his 
side. “You were too young to remember me when 
I last saw you. Fortunately,” meeting Brett’s in- 
credulous stare, “Nicodemus knows me.” 

“Your spectacular appearance seems to have 
knocked him silly,” exclaimed Captain Lane, regain- 
291 


THE MAN INSIDE 


ing his voice. “I reckon we’ll have to bring him 
around before he can identify you properly.” 

“Nicodemus, tell these gentlemen who I am,” 
commanded the newcomer. 

“Yo’ is my marster, Cap’n Barry Thornton, suh.” 
The voice came from behind Douglas, and all in the 
room wheeled in that direction. There stood Nico- 
demus, his eyes starting from his head, his face 
gray with fright. He had entered unnoticed a sec- 
ond before. 

Eleanor’s senses were reeling. With desperate 
effort she controlled herself. “Then who is that?” 
she cried, frantically, pointing to the motionless fig- 
ure which was partly hidden from their view by 
the divan. 

For answer the newcomer stepped forward and 
thrust the sofa to one side, then stooped and rolled 
the figure over, disclosing the white hair and well- 
known features of Colonel Dana Thornton. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


THE FINAL EXPLANATION 

D OUGLAS caught Eleanor as she fell and 
carried her to the lounge. 

“Get some water and wine, Lane,” he 
directed, and the young officer sped out of the room, 
to return quickly with Nicodemus bearing the neces- 
sary articles. Douglas forced some of the stimu- 
lant between Eleanor’s clenched teeth, and bathed 
her temples and hands with the iced water, and, to 
his infinite relief, he had the satisfaction of seeing 
her open her eyes. 

“Father,” she murmured, “Father!” 

“I am here.” The tall, sad-faced man stooped 
over her, and she placed her trembling hand against 
his cheek. “Don’t look so wild, my darling,” — as 
recollection returned fully to her. “Think no more 
of it,” and he laid his hand softly over her eyes. 
She smiled like a tired child, and, reaching over, laid 
her hand in Douglas’, then, reassured, lay still. 
Seen together, the likeness between father and 
293 


THE MAN INSIDE 


daughter was obvious. Eleanor had inherited his 
handsome deep blue eyes, long eyelashes, and bril- 
liant coloring. 

Brett rose from beside the still figure. “He’s 
dead — this time,” he said tersely. “Apoplexy. It 
beats me how he got out of that burning automo- 
bile.” 

“He wasn’t in it,” said Barry Thornton calmly. 

“He wasn’t?” Brett’s excitement overcame him. 
“Why, I saw him with my own eyes.” 

“You saw him leave here, yes; but you probably 
did not notice that the Japanese chauffeur was 
crouching at his feet in the car. When the machine 
turned into Wisconsin Avenue, out of your sight, 
my brother slowed down and sprang out, giving his 
hat to the Japanese, who took his place at the wheel 
and raced the machine up Wisconsin Avenue.” 

“Well, I’ll be damned!” ejaculated Brett. “So 
it was poor Fugi who was burned up. But, good 
Lord! when Colonel Thornton had made so suc- 
cessful a getaway what induced him to put his head 
in the lion’s mouth by returning here, and what was 
he doing in this room?” 

“If you search his pockets you may find out,” 
was the cryptic reply as Barry Thornton drew up a 
chair by Eleanor’s couch and seated himself. 

294 


THE FINAL EXPLANATION 

Brett thrust his hand first in one pocket of the 
dead man’s clothing and then in another. In the 
last one he jerked it out again as if his fingers had 
been bitten. In his hand dangled the priceless ruby 
necklace and a wallet filled with bank notes ! Brett 
sat down on the floor, for once speechless. 

“How did you know it?” he asked finally. 

Barry Thornton raised his disengaged hand and 
pointed to the portrait of his ancestor and name- 
sake. “I was watching this scene through those 
peepholes,” — an exclamation escaped Douglas, — 
“you almost caught me this morning, Mr. Hunter. 
This old house is honeycombed with secret pas- 
sages. My brother kept a large sum of money in 
a secret drawer in that desk. He probably needed 
funds to assist him in escaping from this country, 
so came back here and entered the house by means 
of one of the secret passages. He has been con- 
cealed behind that sliding panel,” — pointing to an 
aperture in the wall near the chimney, — “waiting to 
slip into this room. He seized the opportunity 
when Nicodemus put out the lights, and left by the 
billiard room door, to steal the necklace as well as 
get his money. Your reentering the room flustered 
him, and he was making in haste for the secret 
passage when I stepped out of it and faced him. 

295 


THE MAN INSIDE 


Thinking me dead years ago — his escape barred — 
the shock proved too much . . Thornton did 
not complete his sentence. There was a moment’s 
silence. 

“I think it would be as well, Mr. Thornton, that 
we remove your brother’s body to his room,” sug- 
gested Douglas, recovering somewhat from his as- 
tonishment. 

“Well, I don’t know about that; the coroner ” 

objected Brett dubiously. 

“We can all testify to the details of Colonel 
Thornton’s death,” put in Lane. “But we cannot 
leave him lying here on his own floor. His death 
was natural, brought on by shock.” 

“Very well, sir.” Brett rose and walked to the 
door. He returned in a moment with a plain-clothes 
policeman, and, with the assistance of Douglas and 
Lane, all that was mortal of Dana Thornton was 
carried to his room. Barry Thornton had re- 
quested them to return, and Douglas, Lane, and 
Brett trooped back to the library. 

“Eleanor has told me of her long search,” began 
Thornton. “My disappearance came from lapse of 
memory, and the latter was brought on by a fall on 
shipboard. That fall,” — deliberately, — “was caused 
by my brother, Dana.” 


296 


THE FINAL EXPLANATION 


“Oh, Father!” Eleanor sat bolt upright. 

“Yes, I had found out some of his deviltries and 
taxed him with them. I told him I would expose 
him if he did not mend his ways, and he promised 
to do so. He visited me on board ship, and while 
he was there I had occasion to mount the rigging. 
He followed me up, and managed to push me as I 
was swinging from one of the ropes. I lost my bal- 
ance and fell, with what result you already know.” 

“The fiend!” cried Eleanor, bitterly. “And I 
trusted him so.” 

“His ability to inspire confidence has been his 
greatest asset,” said her father dryly. “After leav- 
ing the gig that day at Old Point Comfort, every- 
thing is a blank to me.” 

“What brought back your memory?” asked 
Douglas. 

“A chance remark overheard in a drinking hell of 
Colon, Panama. Two days before that a man whose 
face was dimly familiar met me in the streets of 
Cristobal and gave me his card, telling me I must 
ask for him at the Navy Department at Washing- 
ton, and that the Secretary was keeping a place 
open for me. At the time, while his words im- 
pressed me deeply, they conveyed no very clear idea, 
nor did Senator Carew’s name enlighten me; but 
297 


THE MAN INSIDE 


they caused me to renew my efforts to remember the 
past, which I felt convinced was very different from 
my surroundings then. 

“As I have said, two days after I overheard two 
men plotting against the United States. Toward 
the end of their conversation the younger man, 
whom I took to be an American, mentioned the name 
which woke the sleeping chords of memory — the 
name of my dearly loved wife, Nora Fitzgerald,” — 
his voice broke with a sob. Eleanor raised his hand 
to her lips and kissed it tenderly. Her father’s grasp 
tightened involuntarily and he continued : 

“I hastened back to Washington as soon as I 
could get here, working my passage, and on my ar- 
rival went to see Secretary Wyndham. The news 
of Senator Carew’s death was a great shock, for I 
had depended on him to assist me to find my wife 
and child. I believe I had some sort of attack at 
the Department, but all I recollect is finding myself 
again in the street.” 

“What did you do then?” questioned Douglas, as 
the older man paused. 

“I came on here, thinking I might find Dana. 
He was out, but old Nicodemus opened the door 
for me. He recognized me almost instantly; hur- 
ried me out into the kitchen, and there poured out 
298 


THE FINAL EXPLANATION 


such an extraordinary tale of Dana’s behavior that 
I sat dumfounded.” 

“Do tell us what he said,” urged Brett, hitching 
his chair forward. 

“In justice to myself I must,” was the grave re- 
ply. “Dana was a moral degenerate; brave to a 
fault, and very clever, he did not know the differ- 
ence between right and wrong. If he had been con- 
tent to keep straight he might have risen to high 
places; instead he practiced deceit and dishonor.” 
Thornton’s sad face hardened. “He was always a 
first class actor, and that talent helped him in the 
double life he was leading. Nicodemus told me 
that he was in the habit of disguising himself when- 
ever he was up to deviltry.” 

“Ah, that explains why Annette did not know 
that Dana Thornton was ‘the mutual friend’ to 
whom she delivered and from whom she received 
secret despatches,” put in Brett, who had fol- 
lowed Captain Thornton’s words with breathless 
interest. 

“After what Nicodemus told me I decided not 
to let my brother know of my presence here,” con- 
tinued Captain Thornton, “and so occupied an un- 
used room in the garret, where Nicodemus took 
care of me.” 


299 


THE MAN INSIDE 


“Oh, why didn’t you come to me?” asked Elea- 
nor passionately. 

“I did, dear; yesterday morning, but you were 
out.” An exclamation broke from Eleanor. “I did 
not leave any message or name, so you were not 
told of my visit. Nicodemus told me of my wife’s 
death, and of your presence in Washington, Eleanor. 

“How I kept my hands off Dana I don’t know I” 
Thornton’s eyes blazed with righteous indignation. 
“He was the cause of all my misfortunes. When 
possible I spied upon him; not an honorable occu- 
pation, but I felt I must fight the devil with fire. 
When I entered this room just now I intended to 
slay him, but Providence intervened and gave him a 
more merciful death than I would have meted out 
to him.” 

“I don’t know about that,” said Brett; “in the 
hour of his triumph you snatched his victory from 
him. God only knows what thoughts were concen- 
trated in his active brain when physical endurance 
succumbed to the shock of seeing you.” 

“Perhaps you are right,” agreed Thornton wear- 
ily. “I think that is all I have to tell you, gentle- 
men.” 

“There is one question I feel I must ask,” Brett 
rose to his feet as he spoke. “Did Annette com- 
300 


THE FINAL EXPLANATION 


mit suicide, or was she killed by human or super- 
natural agency?” 

“I think my brother planned her murder; one 
crime more or less did not trouble his elastic con- 
science.” 

“By Heaven ! she brought it on herself by offer- 
ing to confess to Colonel Thornton what she knew 
of Senator Carew’s murder. But how the devil did 
he accomplish it?” questioned Brett. “The only 
door was locked on the inside, and no one could 
have entered by the windows. I examined all the 
wall space, thinking there might be a concealed en- 
trance, but couldn’t find a sign of one.” 

“But you did not examine the floor of the closet,” 
replied Thornton. “It has a trapdoor cleverly con- 
cealed. The passage leads to a secret door which 
opens on the landing of the circular staircase lead- 
ing from this floor to the next. My idea is that 
Dana stole into the room, found the maid asleep, 
and blew out the gas, leaving her to be asphyxiated, 
and then returned to his room.” 

“Did you see him do this?” — sternly. 

“Most certainly not. If I had had the faintest 
idea that he intended to murder the maid, I would 
have prevented the crime. I stayed downstairs last 
night, going over some papers in Dana’s desk until 
3 01 


THE MAN INSIDE 


nearly three this morning. I was stealing up to my 
room when I saw Miss Carew coming down the 
hall, and, when she screamed and roused the house- 
hold, I bolted into the secret passage opening from 
the stair landing.” 

“I am exceedingly obliged to you, sir, for straight- 
ening out these mysteries,” said Brett, stepping to 
the door. “How much do you wish made public?” 

“Only that which is absolutely necessary to clear 
the innocent from suspicion,” returned Thornton 
gravely. “I leave the matter to your judgment.” 

“Very good, sir; I’ll hush it up as much as pos- 
sible. Good evening,” — and Brett departed. 

Eleanor slipped from the lounge where she had 
been lying. “Wait for me here, Father,” she re- 
quested, as she left the room. 

“Will you excuse me, Mr. Thornton,” said Fred 
Lane, rising. “I would like to join Mrs. Truxton 
and Cynthia for half an hour.” 

“Certainly, Captain, and I will be exceedingly 
grateful if you will explain to Mrs. Truxton what 
has taken place here to-night. Tell her as much or 
as little as you think necessary.” 

“I will indeed, sir; good night,” and Lane, his 
step elastic as he thought of joining Cynthia, has- 
tened to Mrs. Truxton’s room. 

3 02 


Lb Aj. '22 


THE FINAL EXPLANATION 


Eleanor was not long absent. Walking over to 
the lounge, she laid a number of leather-bound jour- 
nals on her father’s knee. 

“Mother kept a diary for you, Father; she 
charged me never to part with it until we should 
meet, when I was to give it to you.” 

Thornton kissed her in silence. As Eleanor stood 
hesitating, Douglas’ arm stole round her waist. 
“Come with me, dear heart,” he murmured. The 
lovelight transfigured his strong face and was re- 
flected in her beautiful eyes. Together they strolled 
to the door, but before passing out of the room 
Eleanor paused and glanced back at her father. 

Thornton’s iron composure had given way, and 
his head was bowed over the familiar handwriting 
as he read through tear-dimmed eyes the messages 
of love and faith penned by his girl wife in the years 
that were no more. 


THE END 


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